Bones Bits
by FaithinBones
Summary: This is a collection of very short stories and drabbles about our favorite Bones characters. This is rated 'T' just in case.
1. Chapter 1

(The Killer in the Crosshairs)

A/N: Okay I had a lot of fun writing drabbles for the 'Hiatus Challenge' and I thought it might be fun to write some more. I will try to update this at least once a week.

I don't own Bones.

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The music playing softly on his stereo in the semi-dark room, Booth paused to listen to his favorite part of the song, 'Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before, just what the truth is I can't say anymore, Cause I love you, Yes, I love you, Oh, how I love you'.

The romantic part of his soul reacting to the words, he shook his head and closed his eyes, "Yeah, that's it. I guess that's been my problem from the beginning and I just didn't want to admit it, not that it mattered. What good is love if it's one sided?"

Disgusted with the situation he was in, Booth slowly stood up and carefully walked over to the living room window. Flicking the curtains to the side, he leaned against the wall and watched a few snowflakes swirl in the air. He knew that the temperature was supposed to climb into the fifties the next day so there was no hope for a real winter storm. "God, even this winter has been all wrong, hardly any snow, more warm days than cold."

Rubbing his forehead, Booth shifted his gaze down to the cars passing on the street below. Surprised, he noticed Brennan's car pull into a parking space across the street. Anticipating her exiting the car, Booth waited only to become concerned as the time clicked by and the driver's side door remained closed. On the verge of going downstairs to check on her, he witnessed the door finally open and Brennan exit the car.

Curious as to why she was there, Booth waited for her to cross the street only to see her shake her head, re-enter her car and drive away. Unsure how he felt about that, he finally stepped away from the curtain and walked into the kitchen. Snagging a beer from the fridge, he twisted off the cap and drank the beer quickly chasing the one he'd had earlier.

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Hearing a sleepy voice answer on the other end, Brennan announced herself, "It's me, Brennan."

"_Is something wrong, Bones? It's kinda late."_

Hesitating, Brennan weighed her words carefully, "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"_Why wouldn't I be?"_

Realizing that Booth wasn't going to make the conversation easy for her, Brennan firmed her resolve, "Earlier this evening you were upset that Brodsky got away and you were also upset with me."

"_Bones, I just misunderstood you, okay? You made yourself clear and we're okay. I'm fine . . . we're fine, so don't worry about it, okay?"_

Not wanting to end the call, Brennan scrambled to think of an excuse, "The Weather Channel says that we are under a severe storm watch. Apparently we're going to get a blizzard tomorrow."

"_When did they say that? They said this afternoon that it was going to miss us."_

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan replied, "The meteorologists have changed their mind. They thought it was going to stay further off shore, but now they are certain it won't. It should be snowing rather intensely tomorrow morning."

"_Sure, why not . . . Do you ever think about us? . . . .Whoa, never mind, I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry. It's late Bones and I'm tired. I'm going back to sleep, night."_

The call ended, Brennan stared miserably at the little Smurf figurine sitting on the bookshelf across the room. "Yes, Booth, I do."

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So, let me know if this is a good idea. I appreciate all reviews.

A/N: the song Booth was listening to was "Nights in White Satin" by the Moody Blues.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for your encouraging reviews.

A little jump back in time to when Booth had been in Desert Storm and after he had been rescued from the Republican Guard.

I don't own Bones.

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Irritated more than he was willing to say, Booth glared at the Major as the older man flipped through Booth's file.

Satisfied, Major Riley frowned as Booth shifted in his wheel chair, "I hear you don't take your pain medication like you should."

His feet throbbing, Booth clasped his hands in his lap, "They don't hurt that much."

Curious, Riley asked, "Why are you afraid of pain medicine?"

Stoically, Booth glanced at the closed door, "I'm not afraid of anything, Doc. I don't take the pills because I don't need them."

Crossing his legs, the Major placed his hand on his knee, "You're pretty tough by anyone's standards. Captured by the Republican Guard and tortured for four days. Do you know why they tortured you?"

A small smirk on his lips, Booth informed the psychologist, "They wanted information and I didn't want to tell them."

Leaning forward slightly, Major Riley asked, "Did you give them the information?"

"Hell no." Angry that he was being questioned, Booth insisted, "I knew the score. If I'd said anything . . . if I'd given them what they wanted they would have killed me. I wasn't about to give them a damn thing."

His curiosity about Booth growing, Riley remarked, "If you hadn't been rescued when you were I'm pretty sure they would have killed you even if you hadn't talked. The situation was pretty serious and I'm sure they'd have given up on you sooner or later."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth responded, "I had to hold on. I knew my men would be looking for me. All I had to do was hold on long enough and it'd be over. It was worth the risk not to say anything. What they did to me was bad, but . . . ."

Uncrossing his legs, the Major asked. "But what? You certainly haven't received worse punishment. Your feet are broken. You've had two surgeries to fix them and you have another one scheduled next week."

"It's all relative, Doc." Shifting in his chair, Booth moved his right leg trying to find a comfortable position, "My old man beat the shit out of me on a regular basis. He broke a few bones once in a while just to make a point."

Shaking his head, Riley testily commented, "Being abused by your father wasn't the same as being deliberately tortured by a professional torturer. For four days you were beat mercilessly with no hope of reprieve. The only certainty you had is you were going to die sooner or later. Why not sooner?"

Snorting, Booth sneered, "Because they would have won and I couldn't let them. I play for keeps."

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Sitting in the chapel, Booth finished his prayer and crossed himself. Turning his wheelchair, he almost ran into a nun who was standing behind him, "I'm sorry, Sister. I didn't see you standing there."

Her smiled bright, Sister Mary stepped to the side, "I should have warned you. It was my fault."

Staring up at her, Booth smiled, "These wheelchairs should come with an alarm system. You know, it could beep when we back up and stuff like that."

Amused, Sister stepped forward and sat down on the pew next to Booth. "That's a wonderful idea. I wonder why they don't do that."

A twinkle in his eye, Booth replied, "Then they'd be too cool and everyone would want one."

Her laughter like a silver bell, the nun shook her head, "You're right. I know I'd be envious." Her smile disappearing, the Sister solemnly asked, "Did you get the answer you were looking for?"

Confused, Booth shook his head, "I don't know what you mean."

Shrugging her shoulders, Sister Mary explained, "When you were praying, did you get an answer?"

Wistfully, Booth replied, "I wish it was really that simple. Ask God and get a reply. It sure would make life easier."

"Or harder." Curious, the Sister asked, "Can I help you? I'm pretty a good listener. I'm not really good with answers, but I listen really well."

Her silver laugh floating around the room, Booth suddenly felt shy. "I was in Iraq when I got hurt. I was asking for a little help with the pain. I can't really take pain medicine because it makes me crazy or high so I have to try to make do with just a little. I usually take it at night so I can sleep."

Curious, Sister Mary asked, "May I ask how you were hurt?"

A little wary, Booth licked his lips and thought about his answer.

Embarrassed, the Nun stood up, "I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now."

Holding up his hand, Booth stopped her from leaving, "It's not like it's a secret, Sister. I was captured by the Republican Guard and tortured. They broke my feet and fractured my left ankle. They also broke my right leg and a few of my fingers. To add to it they punched me a lot."

Appalled, Sister Mary sat back down, "That's horrifying."

Agreeing, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, but I didn't tell them anything. I knew that if I held out long enough someone would rescue me."

Fascinated, the sister remarked, "You had a lot of faith."

Shaking his head, Booth smiled, "No, I have experience. When I was a kid, I was going through some stuff and . . . and well, I was planning on killing myself. Just before I could do it though my grandfather saved me. Ever since then, if I'm in a tough spot, I think all I have to do it just bear what's going on and someone sooner or later someone will rescue me. If I give up too soon then that would just be stupid, right Sister? All I have to do is just put up with whatever shi . . . whatever stuff is happening to me and someone will eventually save me. Of course, if I can save myself I'll try, but if I can't I just need to hold out until help arrives. Do you see?"

Swallowing, Sister Mary licked her bottom lip, "Yes, I see."

The twinkle back in his eyes, Booth explained further, "It's worked so far, so it's a good rule. Of course, someday it might not work and I'll die waiting but at least I'm giving someone the chance to save me. Giving up would just be stupid."

Solemnly, Sister Mary replied, "You're right. It would be stupid."

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Let me know what you think of this chapter. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

(After The Murder in the Middle East)

This story idea came from mendenbar.

I don't own Bones.

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The church quiet for a Tuesday morning, Booth knelt at the back of the church, praying. His faith in the church had been lacking as of late, but as far as he was concerned, he had little to lose asking for God's help in his hour of need. His prayer done, Booth stood up and turned to go when he bumped into a nun who had been standing behind him. Grabbing her arm to keep her from falling, he exclaimed, "Oh, I'm sorry Sister. I sure didn't mean to do that. Are you okay?"

Her silver laughter floating around them, Sister Mary patted his arm, "I'm alright. I'm always sneaking up on people and scaring the heck out of them. It's just that I don't want to disturb someone when they're praying so I just wait and sometimes the person I'm waiting on just turns and plows right into me. You'd think I'd learn from that, but, no, that would just be too easy now wouldn't it?"

Amused, Booth released her arm, "Yeah, I do stuff too . . . . Do I know you? I mean you look familiar."

Staring intently at Booth, Sister Mary suddenly beamed a bright smile, "Why yes you do, you were much younger then and so was I. I met you at Walter Reed when you were recovering. You were in a wheelchair in the chapel and you almost ran into me then too." Her laughter tinkling around Booth, she shook her head, "How are you? I see you don't have to use the wheelchair anymore."

A slight blush on his cheeks, Booth smiled shyly, "Well, yeah, my feet are okay so I don't need the chair but I got to tell you, Sister, sometimes I could use one when my feet are hurting me."

Pointing at the pews, Sister Mary asked, "Would you like to talk? I have time and you look you could use a little conversation right now. Am I wrong?"

His hand on the pew next to him, Booth sat down, "No you're not wrong. If you have time I could use someone to talk to. I don't really have many friends or relatives that I can talk to. My grandfather died, so there's just a brother I don't see very often, my son . . . he's in England and my wife and daughter and that's it. Well, my mother is around but . . . it's complicated." A sad laugh escaping him, Booth shook his head, "To be truthful most of my friends are my wife's friends . . . anyway, yeah, I'd like to talk to you. Thanks."

Sitting next to him, Sister Mary stared at the altar and sighed, "I know how you feel. I only have one cousin and an aunt living. That's what happens when you get old. So, what's going on?"

Suddenly nervous, Booth glanced at his hands now clasped in his lap, "I haven't been in church for a while, Sister. Some bad stuff happened and . . . I kinda lost faith in everything, God, the FBI . . . oh, that's where I work and well everyone really. I can't bring myself to trust anyone. I really try, but . . . you probably don't want to hear about this stuff. It's just . . ."

Placing her hand over his hands, the Sister frowned, "You need a friend and I'd like to be your friend. My name is Mary."

Surprised, Booth smiled sadly, "My name is Seeley but most people call me Booth."

Deciding that joking about his name wouldn't be a good idea, Mary smiled, "Hello Booth." Her smile fading, she asked, "This bad stuff that happened created a crisis of faith? It must have been pretty bad."

Grimly, Booth explained, "Yeah, I was betrayed by the people I should be able to trust that I needed to trust. It was pretty bad and I ended up in prison for four months. My wife and her co-workers managed to get me out of jail and I thought I could move on, but . . . it's not that easy. I'm suspicious of everyone. I worry about their motives and if they're dangerous or . . . . My wife has been pushing me to trust someone and I'm trying." Dreading her reaction he blurted out, "I'm a gambling addict."

A little puzzled, the nun frowned, "Are you gambling now or are you recovering?"

Ashamed, Booth cleared his throat, "I started gambling a few months ago and my wife kicked me out of the house when she found out about it. The bookie I was using threatened her when I wasn't around and . . . So right now, I'm on my own. I'm going to GA meetings and it's been tough to not go back and gamble, you know give up. I mean, no friends that I can talk about this stuff to, no family no one really. I'm alone. . . . I'm trying to convince my wife that I'm better, but well, I lied to her when she confronted me about my gambling and she doesn't trust me anymore. She really doesn't understand lying and . . . . So she doesn't trust me and I don't trust anyone at all. It's a hell of a mess, really."

Sad for her friend, Sister Mary squeezed his hands, "You're not alone, Booth. If you ever need a friend to talk to you can come here and talk to me. . . . I don't really have an answer to your problem and I wish I did. Time usually takes care of most of our problems. I think . . . I think if you keep going to your meetings and you talk to your sponsor that might help you. You know if you're honest with your wife about everything that's going on in your life, maybe she will learn to trust you again. As for you not trusting anyone, I know that can be a vicious cycle. You need to talk to the friends you have or at least one or two of them. You might be doing your friends a dis-service. If they're real friends then they can listen to you when things are bad not just when they're good. You should give them a chance. If you continue to mistrust everyone around you then I think the situation may get worse, don't you see? You have to trust someone."

Sighing, Booth looked towards the alter. "Yeah, I know. . . . I gave up gambling over ten years ago and up until a few months ago I wasn't even tempted. Things kept piling up on top of me and I was starting to smother. It's like the light was leaving my world. It's just been too much. . . My wife is pregnant and I worry that something is going to happen to her and the baby or my little girl, Christine. I couldn't protect myself so how am I supposed to protect my family? It's all messed up."

Placing her arm around his shoulders, Sister Mary hugged him and released him, "You know, a wise man once told me that if you're in danger and you can't rescue yourself then it's stupid to give up, because you have to give someone enough time to rescue you. In this case, don't you think that's still true? You're in danger, your soul is troubled and your life is not what you want it to be. You need to hold on and have faith that you're going to be rescued. True you need to help too. You need to do your part to rescue yourself but while you're doing that maybe someone will come along to help you, to rescue you. Do you understand? You can't give up because it would be stupid, right? You need to fight hard to stay alive and beat your addiction and sooner or later someone will help rescue you. . . . oh dear, I hope that made sense. I'm a good listener but I'm terrible when it comes to advice."

A smile tugging at his lips, Booth assured her, "I don't know about the wise part, but yeah it's good advice. I think I forgot that. . . . Don't tear yourself down like that Sister, you give good advice and I'm glad I talked to you. Thank you."

Relieved, Sister Mary laughed her silvery laugh and patted Booth's knee. "You're welcome."

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Let me know what you think of my little story. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

Frankie707 had a prompt: pancakes

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

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Waking, Brennan stretched her arms and was surprised to find that she was alone in bed. Sitting up, she placed her hand on the sheets next to her and found them cool to the touch. Moving off the bed, she grabbed her robe and shrugged it on while noting the time on the clock on the nightstand. The time still early, she walked out into the hallway and found a light on in the kitchen.

Her feet barely making a noise on the hardwood floors, Brennan silently moved down the hallway and into the well lit kitchen. Spying her husband leaning against the counter drinking a beer, Brennan sat down at the kitchen island and asked, "What are you doing up, Booth? It's only 2:24."

Tipping his beer bottle back, Booth drained the bottle before answering. Placing the now empty bottle on the counter, he sighed, "I'm not tired."

Worried, Brennan shook her head, "Booth you barely sleep anymore. You've been this way for months. Your health is going to start to deteriorate if you don't start sleeping more than five hours a night. The mind needs the rest. It needs to dream to prevent psychosis."

Annoyed, Booth crossed his arms, "Are you saying I'm psycho?"

Cocking her head to the side, Brennan frowned, "You know that isn't what I'm saying Booth . . . I'm concerned for you. Is there something I can do to help you sleep?"

Tired but unwilling to admit it, Booth walked across the room and stopped next to the island. Leaning against it, Booth reached across the surface and captured one of her hands and clasped it, "I'm sorry, Bones. I know you're worried about me but I don't have an answer for you. I go to bed and I pray I'll sleep for at least six or seven hours but I just can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like . . . I wake up and I start thinking about things and I can't stop."

Thinking about possibilities, Brennan asked, "Would you like to play that word association game Sweets had us play in his office a few years ago? When we played it it seemed to help me. Perhaps it would help you?"

Surprised, Booth stared intently at his wife, "You're kidding me. That game where it made you decide you wanted a baby, that game?"

Irritated, Brennan shook her head, "That game didn't make me do anything, Booth. It just helped me clarify my thoughts. Perhaps it would help you."

Wary from their previous experience, Booth released Brennan's hand and stood back, "I don't know, Bones. You don't believe in psychology and now you want to play a psychological game? That seems weird to me."

Frustrated, Brennan stood up and threw her hands up, "Fine, Booth. We won't play the game. Why do something that might help you? It helped me but perhaps you're right and it's just weird that I want to help you. I'm going back to bed."

Watching her stalk down the hallway, Booth rolled his shoulders and tried to relax. Following her to their bedroom, he entered the room and found Brennan lying on the bed on her side, staring at the dining room table through the glass wall.

Quietly, Booth slid onto the bed and moved over so that he was lying on his side next to her. Placing his arm around her waist, Booth fretted, "Look, Bones, I'm sorry. I really am. If you want to play that game we can. . . . okay? I didn't mean to make you mad or upset you."

Turning so that she was now lying on her back, Brennan solemnly responded, "Night."

Reluctantly, Booth replied, "Cover."

Safe

Danger

Walls

House

Family

Protect

Partners

Married

Happy

You

Me?

Yes

No

Laughing, Booth leaned over and kissed her, "Whoa, Bones."

"Horse"

Leaning over and placing his forehead against hers, Booth sighed, "I mean stop the game. You make me happy, you know that don't you? You're the reason I made it out of that prison alive. It wasn't just that you blackmailed the prosecutor to get me out of there. It was the thought of you and how I needed to survive for you, that's what got me through the days and the nights. You and Christine and Parker. You guys are what I live for, you know that right?"

Placing her hand on the side of his face, Brennan leaned up and kissed him, "I love you, Booth. I want you to be happy. Right now, even though you're home again . . . . sometimes you get a look on your face and even though I don't excel in non-verbal communication, somehow I know you're not happy."

His lips lingering near her lips, Booth stared into her concerned face, "Bones, I'm happy, but sometimes I think, what if they come back and take all of this away from me? They did it once, it could happen again. What if the next time, I never get to see you again? It scares me to think that could happen, not seeing you or Christine or Parker ever again. I think that's what keeps me up sometimes. The what ifs."

Moving her hand behind his neck, Brennan stared intently at Booth, "We are never going to be separated again, Booth. The ones responsible for our separation are in jail waiting to be tried. There isn't anything to be afraid of. Allow yourself to be happy."

His lips gently kissing her, Booth pulled back and stared into her crystal blue eyes, "You know what would make me happy right now?"

Her reply soft, Brennan asked, "What?"

A hint of mischief in his voice, Booth replied, "Pancakes."

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Ha, I bet you wondering where the pancakes were coming in to the story.

**Guest**: it is fair game to write a review saying you hate a story or to point out spelling or grammatical errors. It is uncalled for to write a review telling a fanfic writer that you cannot stand the way the writer writes and that the writer is fortunate that his or her writing style won't keep you from reading their stories. The fact is everyone has a writing style. It's unique to that individual. It's the vehicle the writer uses to present their story.

In my case, my "Style" is more script-like than normal. Over the years, I've tried to correct some of the more annoying things I do as a writer and I think I have improved; but my writing style is my way of writing and that I cannot change.

I am not a professional writer and I do not get paid to write these stories. I am just a fan who loves the television show Bones and I wish to share my love for it the only way I know how, by writing stories. If you are reading fanfic expecting F. Scot Fitzgerald or Ray Bradbury then you will be sorely disappointed and I recommend you look elsewhere for your reading pleasure.

I allow Guests to leave reviews because I know some readers use their phones to read with and signing in and out of fanfic is very awkward. Attacking a writer under Guest is a cowardly thing to do. It doesn't leave a way for the author to respond. I do not plan to change how I write. After all it is "my" writing style. If you think I'm that terrible, please stop reading my stories and look for an author with a style you approve of. Better yet, write a fanfic, post it and let me know so that I may read it. I will share the link with other fanfic readers so that we may all benefit from "your" writing style.


	5. Chapter 5

(The Wannabe in the Weeds)

Thank you for your wonderful reviews. They are so encouraging.

I don't own Bones.

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His heart in his throat, Hodgins watched Booth turn to face Pam Noonan just as the crazed woman took a shot at Brennan. Horrified, he watched the bullet strike Booth in the upper right portion of his chest and the man fall jerkily to the floor. Paralyzed he watched Brennan kneel next to the downed agent and then pick up Booth's gun and shoot Pam as the deranged woman aimed her weapon again.

Her hands pressing against Booth's wound Brennan's words echoed throughout the room, "Come on, Booth, Come on."

Her words galvanizing him, Hodgins fumbled for his phone in his jacket pocket and called 911. With precise words, he reported the shooting, the location and the fact that an FBI agent was the victim. He also informed the operator that the shooter was down. Moving across the room, he knelt next to the shooter and felt for her pulse. The woman clearly dead, he also passed that information on to the Emergency operator. Promising to hold on until the authorities arrived Hodgins motioned for Angela to come to him.

Placing his arm around her trembling shoulders, the entomologist tried to assure her, "Helps on the way. He's going to be okay, Angela. Booth's going to be fine." Glancing at Brennan as she seemed to desperately will Booth to stay with them, he bit back his worry and his fear. His throat dry, he let the operator know he was still on the line and with a feeling of panic starting to set in, he begged the Emergency operator to get an ambulance to them as fast as possible.

Sirens in the distance a welcome sound to everyone still left in the room, Hodgins pulled Angela into his side as he stared at Booth lying still, the Federal Agent's chest barely rising.

The doors to the main entrance thrown open, two police officers entered the building, one rushing over to where Pam lay and the other to where Booth fought for his life. The officer next to Brennan, trying to help, offered to watch over Booth while they waited for the ambulance, but she refused to move her hands from Booth's chest and insisted that if he wanted to really help, the officer would get the ambulance to arrive more quickly.

Clearing his throat, Hodgins thanked the Emergency operator, ended the call and placed the phone back in his jacket pocket. Motioning for Cam to come over to where he was standing, Hodgins waited for her to arrive. "Look, why don't you and Angela go out to my car and wait. As soon as the ambulance arrives and they help Booth, we'll head out to the hospital." Using his chin he pointed at the police officer talking to the club manager, "Check with him first, give him your statement and then go out to the car, that way we won't be delayed when it's time to go to the hospital."

Grateful for something constructive to do, Cam placed her arm around Angela's waist and did what Hodgins had asked them to do knowing he was trying to get Angela to leave the club to protect her. Her concern for Booth almost overwhelming, Cam took one final look at Booth lying so still on the floor, wiped a tear from her cheek and approached the police officer to give him her statement.

The door slamming open again, two EMTs entered the room, pulling a gurney. Stopping next to the downed agent, both technicians knelt beside Booth, asked a few quick questions and took over from Brennan, gently removing her hands from Booth's chest and allowing the officer squatting next to her pull her away from her partner.

His eyes teary, Hodgins watched as Brennan, who was clearly in a state of shock, was led over to a chair and encouraged to sit. The officer squatting down next to her, tried to get a statement from her as her eyes bore into Booth.

Shaking his head, Hodgins walked over to where Brennan sat, passing Sweets who seemed to be frozen in place. Patting the young man on the shoulder as he passed him, Hodgins murmured, "Keep positive, man."

Squatting next to Brennan on the opposite from the police officer, Hodgins placed a hand over her hand, "Dr. B I'm right here. You're not in this by yourself. I'm here for you."

Her eyes on Booth, Brennan replied, "He can't die. He said he'd never leave me."

Squeezing her hand, Hodgins glanced at Booth as he was lifted on the gurney and soon whisked from the room, "He won't Dr. B. He wouldn't dare."

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So let me know what you think of my little drabble. Thanks.


	6. Chapter 6

(The Dwarf in the Dirt)

Thank you for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it.

I don't own Bones, not even a little bit.

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Interviewing Gidget Jones about the death of Bryce Dafonte, Booth found the entrepreneur to be interesting in that cougarish sort of way. His gut told him that she hadn't murdered her ex-boyfriend but he still needed to make sure.

Cockily, Gidget confided in Booth and his partner, "You know men. Something goes wrong in the heart department, it always shows itself in another way. You know Bryce had a criminal past right?"

Assuring her, Booth replied, "Yeah, he went to prison for assault during a robbery."

A smirk on her face, Gidget responded, "What can I say? I got a thing for the bad boys." Her gaze on Brennan, the suspect asked, "Don't you?"

Shaking her head, Brennan assured her, "No, I prefer good boys."

His attention drawn to his partner, Booth blurted out, "Really?"

Her attention momentarily drawn to her partner, Brennan assured him, "Yes."

Taking in that little tidbit, Booth tore his attention from his partner and back towards their suspect. "Yeah, so, uh . . . you . . . uh, Do you know if Bryce Dafonte owned a gun?"

The notion ridiculous to her, Gidget replied, "Of course not, he was on parole. Tell you something though, I had a sweet little pistol came up missing right about the same time."

Ending the conversation, Booth followed Brennan back out to his truck.

_I've never thought about it, but I guess I always thought Bones would be more drawn to guys with a little bad in them. I mean she drank Bhang in India for God's sake. She believes in having sex with no strings attached. She doesn't want strings, she just wants a hot guy to scratch her itch. She's said that often enough. Love isn't real to her. She just wants physical relationships. No heart involved. No heart, no love._

Arriving at his truck, Booth entered it, settled in his seat and waited for Brennan to get into the truck and buckled up. Once she was settled in her seat, Booth started the truck and headed back to the Jeffersonian.

_I wonder if she thinks I'm a good boy. Maybe she's not really interested in me because she thinks I have some bad boy thing in my past. . . . I never thought about that. All those men I've killed . . . Does that make me a bad boy in her eyes? I've always considered myself a good guy, but am I? Am I really? No one has ever really called me a good man before, so maybe I'm not._

Curious about the silence from her partner, Brennan turned to study Booth's profile. _I wonder if Booth understands what a good man he is? Should I mention it to him? Perhaps not. I'm not sure how he might take that since it would be out of context . . . Still, I wish he understood what a good man he is._

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Just a little something that popped into my head.


	7. Chapter 7

(The Truth in the Myth)

Thank you for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

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He'd been trying to figure out what kind of relationship he had with Brennan for weeks. For years they had been friends and in a small locked portion of his heart, he'd kept his growing love for her hidden, mostly from her and sometimes from himself. The key had been carefully guarded and he rarely looked in the little room, but after he'd had brain surgery, it was as if he'd opened the door and refused to lock it anymore. Her friendship was his most valued possession and he feared what trying to change that would mean. He debated closing the door and locking his love away forever, but in the end, he hadn't. He'd took a gamble and being the former gambler that he was, he knew he'd lost everything by wagering everything at once.

Even after she'd crushed him outside the Hoover, he knew that she was hurting too and he would never walk away from her friendship. He understood the mistrust she had for love and he knew that there was nothing he could do to help her change her mind. He'd accepted that she would never give him what he wanted so he'd moved on. He told her he would making sure she understood that if she couldn't love him he would find someone who could. She had said she understood and Booth tried. He had tried and he had failed miserably in the dating game.

Brennan had also dated which confused Booth but since he was just her partner and her friend it was something he had to accept. She was willing to date anyone but him and for whatever reason, he had to accept that. His decision to move on seemed to be the right choice.

She was only interested in him as a friend and he tried to be the friend she needed.

Eventually he'd found his way to a war zone, alone and miserable with no contact from Brennan and little contact with anyone else except his grandfather and son. He hadn't gone looking for love but love had found him or so he thought.

When he'd come back home, he'd found his partner waiting for him and he was more than ready to renew his partnership. He never considered not working with her and surprisingly she had felt the same way.

Their friendship seemed to be strained at times, but the center seemed to hold until they were working on the Lauren Eames case. That was when Brennan seemed to come under a great deal of stress. He'd saved her from certain death and in his truck, she'd revealed an epiphany.

If he'd waited, if he'd guarded his heart would Brennan's confession have come like it did or did the fact that he'd moved on cause the confession? He wasn't sure. He was well aware that the world didn't spin around one Seeley Joseph Booth. Hell, he was barely in the solar system most of the time, so he tried not to put hope into her words since they were spoken when she was at her lowest point. He was her friend and wasn't that really what she wanted?

He'd agonized over her words but in the end he knew what he had to do. He was in a relationship and he couldn't walk away from Hannah. What kind of man would that make him if he threw away her love because he might have a chance with Brennan?

In the end, the love he had found in a war zone had been an illusion and he was just as alone as he had been when Brennan had told him no outside the Hoover. He still had her friendship but he also had a confession and that confession had caused him more pain and confusion than he thought possible.

After Hannah had left, he'd been angry with everyone around him until he realized that the one he was angry with the most was himself. He's made a mistake moving on, but it wasn't something he could admit to Brennan or to himself. She said she'd made a mistake and cried, but, he didn't know if he could trust her with his heart. She had captured his soul a long time ago and she would always be the sun he revolved around but when it came to his heart, he kept that well guarded. It had been crushed too many times and this time, he didn't think he could fix it. He was certain that all hope for a happy future had died in him and he wasn't sure he really cared anymore.

Their friendship seemed to flourish once the outsider was gone. Interestingly, Booth now knew that Hannah had been the discord in his and Brennan's song. It had surprised him when he'd realized that and in a way he had had his own epiphany. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from Brennan, he wasn't sure that was possible. When they were together, their music was harmonious. When they tampered with it they both suffered. They had been in discord ever since the Hoover and now they were finally playing the same tune.

What that tune was Booth didn't know. Friendship, yes. Partnership, yes. Something else, he wasn't sure. He didn't think she was sure either. He just knew that they were back to where they needed to be. He was there for her and she was standing beside him, just like she'd always been. A friend he could count on and really how many people are lucky to have that in their lives?

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So let me know what you thought of my ramble. Thank you.


	8. Chapter 8

(The Boy in the Time Capsule)

Thank you for reviewing my stories. I really appreciate it.

I don't own Bones not even a little bit.

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He knew he needed to come up with some story to appease Brennan, but so far he'd struggled to find one she'd accept. She and everyone else thought he was 'one of those guys' and it drove him nuts to think they all thought his life had been roses and chocolate. Why did they try to make him out as the bad guy because he'd been an athlete and not an egghead? Why were they judging his life by his looks and not his actions.

They didn't know anything about him and he really wanted to keep it that way. His past was no one's business and he didn't really understand why he had to tell his partner about something that had been a humiliating experience in his life.

That Brennan thought getting a brainy Smurf instead of a feckless Smurfette for a present was considered humiliating was beyond him. He'd tried to understand it, but let's face it, she was complaining about a cartoon character. A cartoon. And Sweets, he didn't help the situation at all. The kid agreed with his partner that he was 'one of those guys' and that just added to his aggravation.

Just because he'd been an athlete and a good one didn't make him a golden boy. There are different degrees of hierarchy when it came to athletes in school and he hadn't been at the top of the chain until his senior year. What would they think of him if they'd known he'd been pantsed in the locker room his freshman year in high school? What if they knew about his father beating him shitless, forcing him to hide his injuries from his classmates? He hadn't wanted to be pitied then and he sure as hell didn't want to be pitied now.

He kept choosing stories that seemed mildly embarrassing to him, but none of them satisfied her. He wasn't sure what he could do about it because he was not going to fall on his sword for her or anyone else just because she was angry with him for snorting about her embarrassment over a Secret Santa gift in high school. He really liked her and considered her a great friend, but his dark secrets were buried deep and no one needed to know about them, not even his partner.

He knew one thing, if everyone around him bothered to understand that being 'that guy' wasn't always gold then maybe they'd treat him more like a friend and less like an outsider. His grandmother had given him some interesting insight when he was a kid and he valued that little piece of wisdom as he grew older.

Grams had told him that it important to remember that the wrapping paper on a box doesn't represent what's inside. That little gem of wisdom had helped make him a damn good murder investigator. He'd learned at a young age that the image a person presents to the world is not the man or woman inside. Over the years he had learned to look in the box and not just at the wrapping paper. It had become his super power. No one seemed to understand the secret that he'd learned a long time ago courtesy of his grandmother. Don't judge someone by their appearance or words look at their actions instead. Action always speaks louder than words.

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Just a quick drabble. Let me know what you think of it. Thanks.


	9. Chapter 9

(After the Hole in the Heart)

Thank you for reviewing my story.

I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooooo

The music playing softly on the stereo in the living room while they ate, Booth looked up from his plate and noticed Brennan poking her asparagus, a sad look on her face.

"What's wrong, Bones?" His hand seeking hers, he covered her hand where it lay on the table.

A smile trying to make an appearance, Brennan shook her head and stared at his hand resting on hers. "Nothing really. This song . . . it was the one playing at my high school reunion, remember?"

His eyes flicking towards the stereo, Booth frowned at the memory of that strained dance. "Yeah, we slow danced to it . . . It's a nice song." Watching her as she sat tight lipped across from him, Booth realized that there was something going on that he didn't understand. Releasing her hand, he stood up, captured her hands again and pulled her to her feet. "Bones, would you like to dance with me?"

Uncertain about her feelings, Brennan stepped away from the table pulling Booth with her. Once they were clear of the table, she stood in front of him and smiled rather sadly. "This will be the first time we've danced as a couple."

Stepping closer, Booth pulled her next to him, placed his hands on her hips and started their dance. "We'll have to do this more often."

Her hands moving around his chest and towards his back, Brennan leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "I enjoyed our dance at my reunion, but I know you were uncomfortable. I shouldn't have made you so uncomfortable. I'm sorry. It was just . . . it was the prom I never had and I . . ."

His hands moving to her back, Booth leaned his head down and interrupted her, "Bones don't worry about stuff like that. It's the past and it's done." Moving slowly, he felt relaxed and hoped she did too. "I really wasn't that uncomfortable. I was dancing with my best friend and I actually liked it. I caught a few looks from your classmates and I think our dancing impressed them."

"Even after you decided not to keep enough room for the Holy Spirit?" Her voice quiet, Brennan loved the feel of her partner's arms around her. It made her feel safe and loved.

Chuckling, Booth assured her, "Even then." Moving slowly, he realized that they were barely moving. "This is kind of nice, you know? You and me, together, it's just . . . really nice."

Her eyes closed, Brennan enjoyed the slow way Booth guided them in their dance. "You really are a very good dancer, Booth. I'm glad we don't have to . . . I'm glad we're friends as well as mates."

Booth kissed her gently on the lips. His lips moving just a fraction from her parted lips, he assured her, "We'll always be friends, Bones. No matter what happens we'll always be friends."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

I love when they slow dance together. Let me know what you think of my little drabble.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Their song popping up on the radio, Booth started to sing it loudly and slightly cracked. Brennan amused at her husband's enthusiasm, smiled and shook her head.

Christine, sitting in the back seat of the truck with her best friend, Molly, cringed and crossed her arms against her chest. Embarrassed that her father was such a terrible singer, she kept her eyes on the scenery passing by on her side of the truck.

Molly, amazed that Booth was singing so badly, grinned and jabbed her elbow into Christine's side. Glancing back and forth between Booth and Christine, Molly did everything she could to make sure that Christine understood how funny Molly thought Booth's singing was.

Mortified, Christine turned and glared at her father's head. Interrupting Booth, she protested, "Dad, come on. Molly and I don't want to hear that song. It's stupid."

His singing interrupted, Booth glanced in the rear view mirror at his daughter. "Hey that's your Mom's and my song. It's not stupid."

Shrugging her shoulders, Christine turned to look out of the passenger window and frowned. "It is the way you sing it." Realizing that she'd said that out loud, Christine placed her hand over her mouth and stared in horror at her father in the rear view mirror.

A little annoyed with his daughter, Booth reached over to the radio and cranked up the music. With gusto he resumed singing 'Hot Blooded' his eyes flicking between the road and his fifteen year old daughter.

Brennan, turning to look at Christine, shook her head, reached over and turned the radio back down to a more comfortable level. Turning her gaze towards her husband, she complimented him. "I like the way you sing, Booth. You're very enthusiastic and you know all of the words to the songs when you sing them."

A grin appearing on Booth's face, he stopped singing and captured her hand in his. "Thanks Bones. I love to sing. I'm glad someone likes it." Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the top of her hand while keeping his eyes on the road, more or less.

"Oh, I do." Brennan assured him, "Remember that time you sang at the funeral? You did a very nice job of getting everyone to sing with you. It kept the mourners distracted so everyone could do their jobs."

Filled with pride, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, I did do a pretty good job with that one . . . You know who I love to hear sing?"

Shaking her head, Brennan asked him, "No, who?"

Kissing her hand once more, he squeezed the hand gently and the smiled. "You. I think you have the best voice ever. You're even better than Cyndi Lauper."

A faint blush coloring her cheeks, Brennan commented, "My mother did tell me that when I was young, but I'm glad you think so too."

Releasing her hand, Booth placed his hand on her knee. "Maybe we can do a little dancing tonight. I'll let you sing to me and we'll dance the evening away."

Her hands clasped under chin, Molly stared in awe at Booth and Brennan. Leaning towards her friend, she gushed, "They are just so cute."

Rolling her eyes, Christine replied, "Yeah, cute."

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Just a little drabble that came to mind. Matt had mentioned Booth's tone deafness to NatesMama and I thought I'd see what I could do with it. Thanks Matt.


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you for reviewing my story.

I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

His phone telling him he had a message, Booth placed his fork down and fished his phone out of his jacket pocket. Opening his messages, Booth snorted, shook his head and placed the phone on the table next to his plate.

Swallowing a bite of his meatloaf, Agent Aubrey pointed at the phone with his fork. "News about the case?"

Slowly shaking his head, Booth picked up his coffee cup and sipped the hot liquid. Placing the cup back on the table, Booth tersely replied, "Nah, it's just Bones."

Curiosity winning over discretion, Aubrey asked Booth, "So nothing about the case?"

"If you must know, we're playing 'hide and seek'." Picking his fork back up, Booth kept his eyes on the man across from him to see his reaction.

Startled and just a little perplexed, Aubrey grinned. "You and Dr. Brennan are playing 'hide and seek'. . . You're pulling my leg."

Amused, Booth chuckled, "Nope, I'm not kidding."

Curious, Audrey cut off another slice of his meatloaf and before he stuffed it into his mouth asked the burning question. "Why are you playing a kids game?"

Sure he should have kept his mouth shut, Booth shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a kid's game the way we play it . . . Whoever is 'it' sends clues saying where they plan to be at a certain time. It's up to the finder to solve the mystery and meet that person wherever they are. If the finder can't do their job then whoever is 'it' wins."

"Oh, I have to ask." Amused that Booth played games with his wife, Aubrey smiled. "What does the winner get?"

A broad smile on his face, Booth leaned closer to Aubrey and spoke quietly, "Whatever the hell I want."

The phone pinging again, Booth read the new message and sighed. "Of course, I'm dealing with Bones and her clues are not always very clear to me." Holding up his phone, he let Aubrey read it: _If you had been alive during the Revolutionary War we'd still be English._

Confused, Aubrey shook his head and squinted at the phone. "What the hell does that mean?"

Placing the phone back down, Booth stared at the clue in wonder. "I haven't got a clue . . . It's Bones . . . she has an eidetic memory, so her clues can be . . . vague to me."

Tapping his front tooth, Aubrey thought about the message and then held his hand out. "Can I see the rest of the clues."

His phone in his hand, Booth shook his head. "Not a chance. I'll read them to you. One, step up to find me. Two, single malt for you next coffee for us. Three, If you had been alive during the Revolutionary War we'd still be English. That's it so far."

Exhaling deeply, Aubrey shook his head and picked his fork back up. "I haven't got a clue . . . you figure these out often do you?"

Booth pulled his phone back across the table and laughed. "Most of the time. Bones . . . well, Bones always blows it by giving one too many clues. She's very smart and she . . . um . . . thinks I'm dumb, well not dumb maybe, but not as smart as she is."

His phone pinging once more, Booth glanced at his messages and laughed. "Bingo, baby." Holding up the phone, he let Aubrey see the message: _Even though Riley didn't like me, you did and that's all I needed._

Still clueless, Aubrey laughed, "If you say so."

Placing his phone in his pocket, Booth assured the agent, "I'm pretty sure it's the Lincoln Memorial."

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Moving slowly up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Booth held up two cups of coffee and laughed at his wife's perplexed look. "I was sure you wouldn't remember. You were pretty drunk from the single malt Sam Riley gave you."

The night cool and breezy, Booth sat down next to Brennan and handed her one of the coffee cups. "I was drunk and I barely remember that night, but . . . well, I remember celebrating the close of Sam's old case and drinking some mighty fine single malt and then I remember talking you into to taking me to the Lincoln Memorial when you came to pick me up to drive me home. I don't remember anything after that, so you almost won there, Bones. You shouldn't have mentioned Sam."

"Yes, I can see that was a mistake." Sipping her coffee, Brennan leaned against Booth. "What do you want for a prize?"

Placing his arm around her, Booth smiled at the sight of the Washington Memorial in the distance. "I want you Bones."

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Brennan assured him, "You already have me Booth."

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Any good?

A/N: I may have been too vague about my clues. These referenced the Lincoln Memorial scene in 'The Soccer Mom in the Mini-Van".


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sitting at the kitchen table, Christine Keenan reread the letter from Temperance's school for the fourth time. She wasn't sure what she should do about it, but she knew that Max needed to see it as soon as possible.

His car driving up onto the driveway, Christine was alerted when she heard him hit one of the trashcans. The cursing coming from the front of the house was quite colorful and she knew that when Russ came home that evening from playing at his friend's house he would be lectured once more about the proper placement of trashcans after the sanitation trucks came and picked up the trash.

Slamming the front door closed on the way in, Max shouted out, "Russ . . . Russ where are you?" Entering the kitchen, Max opened his mouth to fuss at his wife about their son, but stopped himself when he noticed the look on her face. Not sure what was going on, he hurried across the room and as he came near his wife he suddenly found her in his arms. Her desperate crying like a knife to his heart, he asked her, "Hey, what's going on?"

Her hands clutching his jacket, Christine tried to control her crying, but found herself unable to do it. Her forehead pressed against his chest, she sobbed out her misery.

Holding her in his embrace, Max waited for his wife to calm down. He knew that she wouldn't be coherent until she'd released the tears that needed to flow.

Once she was under control, Christine released her husband's jacket and stepped back over to the kitchen table where she grabbed a napkin so that she could wipe her face and blow her nose. Embarrassed, she finally picked up the letter and handed it to Max remaining silent while he read it.

Wary of the piece of paper, Max took it from his wife and read it. The rage he felt bubbled up and with it a need to strike out. Unable to do that, he tore the paper into tiny pieces, marched over to the trash can and threw them away. "No Christine. No way . . . if we allow them to label her then we'll let them control her future. I will not let them label her."

Miserable, Christine sat down at the table and looked up at her husband. "They just want to test her to see if she's in the right classes."

Vehemently opposed, Max sat down next to his wife and scooped her hand into his. "Christine . . . we can't let them label our little girl. If they do that, they'll place her in special classes and . . . they'll destroy who she is. There isn't anything wrong with her . . . yes, she's literal and she has a tendency to be direct, but that's alright. She's unique . . . she's a genius and those sheep at the school board want to turn her into a sheep too . . . No, she is not going to take any tests and she's not going to be labeled. She's got a bright future ahead of her and I won't let them call her special and try to fix her . . . it would crush her . . . Look, I've been thinking about placing her in another school anyway. I hate her teachers. All they do is complain about Tempe, but you and I know it's because some of those teachers don't know what to do with someone as smart as Tempe is. I want to place her in that private school across town. I've talked to them and . . . yes, I should have told you, but I didn't . . . Anyway, I want to transfer her and Russ to the school next semester."

Surprised, Christine shook her head. "Russ? Russ isn't a genius. If anything sometimes I think he's as average as average can be. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but he's not the genius that Tempe is."

Waving his hand, Max shook his head. "I know that, but the school they're going to is too crowded. They have too many kids and not enough teachers. That private school I'm interested in . . . well, I'm trying to get hired there. If our kids were there, I think they'd do better. The teacher student ratio is much smaller and . . . and our little girl needs that. What she doesn't need is to be labeled. She's seven years old and I will not let them change her. She needs to be her. "

For the first time since Max had come home, Christine smiled. "Yes, I think you're right. Our Tempe is very smart . . . we know that. We don't need to label her. You're right . . . I . . . yes, you're right."

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I've read a few articles that showed that Hart Hanson never chose to label Temperance Brennan. He based her on a friend who had Asperger's syndrome. "The needs of a broadcast network like Fox to get as large an audience as possible meant that he couldn't come out and say it." Since Brennan was never diagnosed, either the schools she went to didn't care or right or wrong, Max and Christine never had her tested. If Brennan does have Asperger's syndrome, she's managed to navigate through society and she's done it with the help of her friends and Booth. I admire her. She's strong and brave and she's willing to take advice when it comes to things she doesn't understand.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

Brennan rubbed her hand in slow circles on her swollen stomach and pondered the future of her child. The thought of passing on her social awkwardness, her directness to her child concerned her.

Entering the room, Booth pulled up short when he noticed the sad look on his lover's face. Concerned, he moved across the room until he was standing in front of her. "Bones, what's wrong?"

Not sure she wanted to talk about it, Brennan stopped moving her hand and picked up her glass of tea from the side table and sipped from it. She loved Booth so much, but it puzzled her how he could really love her. "Why do you love me?"

Surprised that she was asking him that question, Booth sat down beside her and turned so that he could look at her comfortably. "Because I do . . . I have for a long time."

His answer was less than satisfying, but she wasn't sure how to get him to give her a better answer. "I'm worried about our child."

A feeling of dread sweeping through him, Booth's gaze moved to his partner's stomach. "Are you . . . I mean, uh . . . is everything okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? I . . ."

Her hand touching him, she calmed him. "There is nothing wrong with me or the baby, Booth . . . that's not what I'm talking about . . . I'm not sure how to explain this to you . . . I was hoping you would give me a concrete reason why you love me, not the vague one you just gave me."

Booth was trying to understand what was going on, but Brennan was a complex human being and he usually lagged behind when she talked to him. It's not that he was stupid, he knew that wasn't the problem. It was more like she assumed a lot when she talked to him and that created a lot of miscommunication between them. "Love is complicated, Bones." The sadness that seemed to radiate from her broke his heart and he felt like he was the cause.

"Um . . . Bones, I love you because of who you are." Trying in vain to find a way to explain it to her, Booth sighed. "When I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever met. I thought about you and how I'd like to be with you, but at the time, I didn't really know you. Over the years, I realized that I wasn't attracted to you just because you have a beautiful body, but because you have a beautiful mind . . . You're a genius, you know things I'll never know or understand. I love that about you. I love that you're confident and independent. I love that you believe in justice and are willing to fight for the rights of others . . . You're a caring person who loves me and my son and who is going to give me a daughter soon." Not sure what else to say, Booth leaned towards her and kissed her. "I love you because I love you."

Her emotions tumultuous, Brennan returned his kiss and felt grateful that he'd tried to explain it to her even though he'd failed to explain it in a way that she'd understand. "I used to wonder why I was different from others around me . . . When I was in Foster Care, I was forced to see psychologists and one of them told me that he thought I has Asperger's Syndrome . . . Do you know that that is?"

Careful with his answer, Booth licked his bottom lip and replied, "Yeah, I know what that is." Sweets had mentioned it to him once and only once.

Surprised, Brennan paused to stare at him before continuing. "It's a type of pervasive development disorder. It tends to run in families, so it may be hereditary . . . Booth what if I pass on this hereditary trait to our daughter? What if . . ."

Booth saw the fear in her eyes and it made him love her more. "Bones, stop . . . just stop. You can't let something like that scare you, alright? Look . . . look at me, I'm the son of an alcoholic and me . . . I'm a recovering gambler. Addiction runs in families . . . Jared is an alcoholic. Does that worry me? Sure it does, but we know that that problem runs in my family and we can talk to our daughter when she's old enough so that she understands what that means. We're prepared . . . and this Asperger's Syndrome . . . you weren't tested for it, were you?"

Shaking her head, Brennan solemnly replied, "No, but I've read up on it and it seems that it is likely that I do have it."

His arm around her, Booth grimly nodded his head. "Okay, you weren't tested, but it's possible you have it. I say that's okay. It's like the addiction thing. Our child may have it and she may not, but we can't be afraid of something that may or may not happen. It will just drive us crazy. Look at how afraid Hodgins and Angela were before Michael Vincent was born. There was a 25 percent chance that Michael Vincent was going to be born blind and they just worked themselves into a tizzy until they finally admitted that it didn't matter. They were going to love that baby no matter what happened and that's what we're going to do. We're going to love our baby no matter what happens, no matter who she is. She's going to be our little girl and if she has Asperger's syndrome then she has it . . . I love you Bones. I love you because of who you are and I'll love our kid for the same reason . . . Do you understand?"

A feeling of calm settling over her, Brennan nodded her head. "Yes, I understand. We will love her because she belongs to us. She will be part of who we are."

"Exactly." Kissing her, Booth smiled. "Of course, I really do hope she's a genius like you. I love that big brain of yours and I want that for my baby, Bones."

A slight blush on her cheeks, Brennan leaned against him. "You're always telling me you love my big brain."

Holding her against his side, Booth smiled. "Yeah, I do. I want you to know that you're all that and a bag of chips."

Puzzled, Brennan looked at her partner and shook her head. "What does that mean?"

Amused at the expression on her face, Booth laughed. "It means you're cool, Bones. You're very cool."

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Any good?


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

Nope, I really don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Roaring up onto the driveway, Booth parked the bike beside Brennan's car and dismounted it. Removing the helmet, he placed it on the seat and strode over to the path leading up to the front door. He'd almost reached the door when it suddenly opened and his wife exited the house.

Her gaze running up and down his body, Brennan observed that her husband appeared to be unhurt. Stepping further along the sidewalk, she leaned to the side and saw what she dreaded to see. "I thought I heard a motorcycle pull into the driveway."

Aware that Brennan was against the idea of his owning a motorcycle, Booth turned, glanced at the bike and then turned back to face his wife. "I borrowed it. Agent Carlson loaned it to me for the weekend. I wanted to see if it's something I really want to own."

With visions of Booth's broken dead body lying on the side of the road, his wrecked bike nearby, Brennan slowly shook her head. "Booth have you ever seen what a body looks like after it's been destroyed in a motorcycle accident?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth walked over to the front door and entered the house. Her throat dry from fear, Brennan followed him into the house and closed the door firmly behind her. Her mind in turmoil over the many possible ways she could lose him, a motorcycle had never been at the top of her list. Brennan considered herself to be a brave person, but she did have fears like most normal people and her biggest fear was losing Booth or her children.

Brennan had come to accept that over the years she had formed a strong bond with Booth and that he kept her anchored in the world. Without him, she knew she had a tendency to become lost in research, in the study of bones, in the world of logic and science. He gave her a bridge to the ordinariness of life and she feared the day that bridge was destroyed.

With Booth in the kitchen searching for a snack, Brennan walked down the hallway and entered their bedroom. Her mind trying to come to terms with the fact that she couldn't help protect him in everything he did in his life, she found her way to the chair next to the closet and she sat down.

The house quiet, Booth entered the bedroom, found his wife and asked her, "Hey where are the kids?"

Forcing herself to answer, Brennan turned her gaze from her hands to the man she loved. "Max took them to the Children's Museum."

Her voice a little too wooden, Booth sat down on the bed and faced her. "Bones it's just a motorcycle. It's cool and I've always wanted to own one. I haven't made up my mind if I'm going to buy one yet. That bike out in the driveway is just a loaner to see if I like it. I haven't made up my mind yet."

With a waver in her voice, Brennan moved her chair to face her husband. "Over the years, I've almost lost you several times. You were caught in an explosion of a refrigerator and severely hurt. Once I thought you'd died when you took a bullet meant for me. You were kidnapped and were almost blown up on a ship. You were kidnapped and tortured. Booth you were attacked in your own home and almost died and . . . and you were shot just a few months ago and almost bled to death. I couldn't do anything to prevent those things from happening and I guess I can't prevent you from risking your life on a motorcycle . . . Remember when you told me a long time ago that it's never just the one person who dies. When you take a life, with each shot you've taken you've died a little bit. You were referring to when you've killed people as a sniper, but Booth each time you're hurt I die a little a bit. Every time I've almost lost you . . . I've almost died with you."

Stunned at her analogy, Booth closed his eyes momentarily and then reopened them. "I'll take the bike back, Bones."

Tears of relief suddenly escaping her lashes, Brennan smiled at her husband. "Thank you."

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	15. Chapter 15

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I don't own Bones, not even a little bit.

Oooooooooooooooooooo

After relocating her motorcycle into the garage, Brennan came back into the house, picked up Booth's cowboy hat and placed it on her head. Settling down on the couch next to her husband, Brennan tipped her hat back and placed her hand on his thigh. "Tell me where you learned to throw a rope. I can't imagine that is a skill needed growing up in Philadelphia."

Snorting, Booth used his remote and turned down the volume on the TV. Taking his hat from her head, he placed it on his head. "That's exactly where I learned to use it. My Mom was a huge fan of westerns and we used to watch them on TV. My brother and I would pretend we were cowboys sometimes and . . . we took turns running around the yard throwing a rope at each other trying to lasso each other. Of course, I was four years older so I had the advantage. Jared didn't lasso me too much unless I let him. I got to be pretty good at it." His expression suddenly grim, Booth shook his head and placed his hat back on wife's head.

Not sure what he was thinking, Brennan leaned against him while he draped his arm around her shoulders. "My brother was five years older than I was, so he wouldn't play with me of course . . . I liked to play cowboys too, but I didn't really have anyone to play with. I played with imagery friends when I was younger. I had some real friends, but they didn't like westerns and they thought it was weird that I liked them . . . I wish Russ had played with me. It might have been fun."

Feeling sad for his wife, Booth pulled her tighter against his side. "You'd have been pretty good at it, Bones. The way you placed your shots at the competition, I think if you practiced you might be hard to beat. Third place is pretty good."

"First place." Emphasizing the word 'first' Brennan grasped Booth's thigh and squeezed it. "You were disqualified ergo I came in first."

Amused, Booth pulled her hand from his thigh, certain he was going to find a bruise there later. "Ergo? Ergo nothing. I won and slippery Sam came in second. You came in third."

Enunciating clearly, Brennan cocked her head to the side and reminded him again, "His name was Glen and you . . . were . . . disqualified."

Not willing to concede her point, Booth reminded her. "I didn't start the fight. I was dancing with my wife and Slippery Sam hit me. He started it therefore I didn't and I shouldn't have been disqualified . . . Ergo, I won."

Her eyes glimmering, Brennan stood up and pushed her hat back from her forehead. "Listen Partner . . . we don't take to cheating in these parts. I won and you lost."

Quickly standing, Booth lowered his shoulder and scooped up his wife on his shoulder. Her squeal loud, Booth patted her behind. "Hey, keep it down Wanda or you'll wake the kids."

Uncertain what Booth was up to, Brennan reached down his back and patted his rear. "Well Buck, now that you have me what do you plan to do with me?"

Moving slowly down the hallway, Booth snickered. "Well Wildcard Wanda, that's exactly what you're about to find out."

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	16. Chapter 16

(After the Doom in the Boom)

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Curious, Booth picked up Brennan's purse from the kitchen counter and shook it. "Um, hey Bones, what do you carry in your purse?"

Surprised that he was interested in something so mundane, Brennan took her purse from his hands and opened it. "Why are suddenly interested in what I carry in my purse?"

Watching her remove items from her bag and place them on the counter, Booth explained, "That BRIU that Caroline sent me, Karen Delfs, you should see the stuff she has in her handbag. She was looking for her phone when we were visiting Aubrey in the hospital and she just dumped a mountain of crap onto the poor guy's lap. She even had a mouse trap in her purse, for God's sake."

Shocked, Brennan paused and stared at her husband. "Why did she have a mouse trap in her purse?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth picked up her ALS or as he called it, her light thingy. "She said she didn't know." Clicking it on and then off, he placed it on the counter.

Continuing to empty her purse, Brennan pulled the last item from the bag and pointed at the items on the counter. "I carry a wallet, an ALS, some disposable gloves, my phone . . . a pen knife, a package of tissues, a few evidence bags, some mints, a coin purse, some coupons for various eating establishments, a few anti-bacterial wipes, some anti-bacterial hand soap, fruit rollups for Christine and a baggy of animal crackers for Hank."

"A sensible bunch of stuff." Handing her the items, he watched her place them back in her purse. "Where's your gun? I thought you carried your gun in there."

Finished placing the items back in her purse, Brennan gave Booth a rather scandalous look. "We have children, Booth. Children that haven't learned personal boundaries yet. I can't keep my gun in my purse for the same reason you can't keep your guns lying around. Christine and Hank may try to play with them."

Leaning against the counter, Booth smirked. "So no mouse trap?"

"Most definitely not a mouse trap." Closing the purse, Brennan moved around the counter and placed her hands on his shoulders. Kissing him, Brennan smiled. "Of course, my purse isn't as big as your purse is, so I can't carry as much as you can."

Confused, Booth shook his head. "Purse . . . I don't carry a purse."

Chuckling, Brennan turned and pointed at his hockey bag currently resting on the coffee table.

His gaze following her finger, Booth protested. "Hey that is not a purse. That's a sport's bag. I carry my hockey stuff in there."

Slowly shaking her head, Brennan corrected him. "A man's purse, but a purse none the less."

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	17. Chapter 17

(After the 'Doom in the Boom')

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Sitting in the break room, Booth listened to a couple of his agents talking about fantasy football. Their picks were pathetic as far as he was concerned and he knew those two had about as much chance of winning as his youngest son, Hank the Tank.

Agent Kwon, angry that his friend was giving him a hard time about his picks turned towards Booth and tried to involve him in the conversation. "Come on Agent Booth. You believe this guy? He picked . . . "

Interrupting Kwon, Booth stood up and shook his head. "I don't think the FBI pays you two to sit around on your asses all day and talk football. Agent Bridges aren't you supposed to be interviewing Daniel Deacon right now?"

His coffee cup almost empty, Bridges held up his cup. "I'm letting him stew for a couple of hours and I decided to get a cup of coffee while I wait. I'm ready for the interview. I have all the information I need to hang him. I just need to unsettle him a little to get his confession. He's nervous already and I want to ramp that up a little. We don't really need his confession, but you know Caroline. She likes us to dot all our I's and cross our T's."

His coffee burnt from sitting in the pot too long, Booth poured the coffee in the sink and left the break room. As he was leaving, he heard Kwon quietly complain, "He sure has been moody lately. Is it our fault that four cops were killed by two kids?"

His mood sour, Booth stalked down the hallway, radiating irritation. Those that knew that look on his face found someplace else to be. Those new to the bullpen took their cue from the veterans and followed them out of the area.

Entering his office, Booth closed the door behind him. Settled behind his desk, he turned to his monitor and googled Fantasy Football. Once the options were displayed, he leaned back on his chair and started his litany.

_One, I like to gamble but gambling can't give me what I want. Two, what I want is my family. Three, I need my family and gambling would take that away from me. Four, I love Bones and she loves me, but if I start gambling again she'll either kill my sorry ass or she'll divorce me which would be the same thing and that would cause number three to happen._

His list complete, Booth said a quick prayer to St. Jude asking for his help to stay clean and once he was satisfied that he'd ridden the crest of the wave to calmer water, turned towards his computer, closed the Google search and turned his attention back to the pile of reports sitting on his desk.

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	18. Chapter 18

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Standing outside on their driveway, Booth watched as Brennan rode by on her motorcycle. The Italian looking helmet firmly buckled on her head, she looked happy, but just a little bit afraid. Walking down the driveway with Henry in his arms and Christine by his side, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and watched his wife disappear from view as she turned the corner at the next block.

"Daddy, where is Mommy going?" Curious, Christine reached up and grabbed her younger brother's foot.

A smile appearing where his frown had been, Booth looked down at his daughter and tried to be unconcerned. "She's just going to the store for some milk and Doritos."

Her eyes on the empty street, Christine leaned against her father's leg. "I've never seen her ride a bike before, Daddy."

Worried about the safety of a bicycle with a motor on it, Booth tried to remain calm for his children. "Oh, your Mommy can ride a bicycle and a horse and I once saw her try to ride a skate board." The memory of her falling and her furious reaction when he'd laughed giving him pause, Booth cleared his throat. "She'll be fine. She should be back in about fifteen minutes or so." Muttering under his breath, Booth stared at the empty street. "I hope."

Following her father back to the house, Christine glanced over her shoulder. "Why didn't she take her car, Daddy? I wanted to go with her."

At the front door, Booth paused before opening it, glanced at the empty street at the end of his driveway and sighed. "She wanted to ride her bicycle Honey . . . a bicycle with a motor on it . . . um, yeah . . . your Mommy is trying to show me that she's fun and a wild card."

Confused, Christine folded her arms across her chest and complained. "I don't know what that means, Daddy."

Resigned to Brennan's brainstorms, Booth turned, opened the door and ushered his daughter through the doorway. "It means that Daddy isn't getting that jet ski or motorcycle he wanted any time soon."

Placing his son on the floor, Booth closed the front door and watched Hank toddle down the hallway after his sister. "Maybe I should look at four wheelers. Bones can't object to a four wheeler. They're like golf carts only a little faster . . . yeah, a four wheeler."

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	19. Chapter 19

I had a few requests for another Hide and Seek chapter. I hope you like it.

I definitely don't own Bones.

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Her phone pinged and unable to contain her curiosity, Brennan removed her latex glove, pressed the message button and read the text: _Ice Ice Baby_

Shaking her head, Brennan sighed, placed a new latex glove on and returned her attention back to the bones lying on the table before her.

Curious about Brennan's reaction, Angela decided to prod her friend for information. "Who was the message from?"

Her gaze riveted on the pelvic girdle of the victim, Brennan replied, "Booth."

Angela knew she'd just have to ask if she was going to move the conversation along. "What did he say? You didn't seem to be happy with whatever it was."

Her fingers noting a small nick on the edge of the bone, Brennan thought it was possible she had just proven the victim had been murdered. "Ice Ice Baby."

Confused, Angela shook her head and laughed. "What? Honey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Brennan knew her friend was not going to be satisfied unless she knew what was going on and since it was harmless fun, why not tell her? "Booth and I are playing Hide and Go Seek."

Angela let out a rather loud snort and shook her head in disbelief. "You're playing Hide and Seek? I don't understand, how is a message saying Ice Ice Baby playing a children's game?"

Moving the bone under the magnifier, Brennan confirmed there was a small slice in the bone. "Whoever is 'it' receives clues about the whereabouts of the person they are seeking. If I put the clues together in a timely fashion I should be able to find Booth."

Her mind now racing with possibilities, Angela was about to speak when Brennan's phone pinged. Excited, Angela hurried to where the phone lay. "Let me look. I promise I'll just look at the current message."

Amused with her friend's excitement, Brennan nodded her head. "Of course."

Checking the message, Angela frowned and read the message out loud: _Round and round and round we go. Where we stop only we'll know. _"His clues are terrible, Brennan. Do you ever win this game?"

Her attention back on the bone in her hand, Brennan assured her friend. "Of course, both of us are very good at this game and most of the time the hider loses."

The phone back on the small table, Angela asked her friend, "What do you guys play for? What's the prize when you win?"

A rather contented smile on her lips, Brennan stated, "Whatever we want. We get to choose the prize once we find the person hiding. That's part of the game. The hider has no idea what he or she will have to do if they are found. You would think that would be an incentive not to be caught, but for some reason we are always found."

Thoughts of sexy times filling her head, Angela smirked. "Yeah, I can't imagine why the hider would fail to make it hard to find them."

Another ping and Angela turned back to the phone. "I'll get it . . . _I'll never let you fall . . ._ God, Brennan these clues are just terrible."

With a sparkle in her eyes, Brennan chuckled. "Booth will be at the ice rink this evening."

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With her skates on, Brennan stepped out onto the ice rink and waited for Booth to make a turn on the ice and notice her. Waving at him, she waited patiently for him to come to her.

Hurrying his pace, Booth skated quickly over to where Brennan was standing and as he drew near, slowed and then stopped. "I made it too easy for you."

Her arm now hooked around his arm, Brennan laughed. "Yes you did and for that you will pay."

Patting her mittened hand, Booth smiled. "You know me, I'm a pretty good loser. What do you want this time?"

Allowing him to pull her along as they skated, Brennan thought it over and smiled. "I want to wear your Hockey shirt when I go to bed tonight."

His gaze raking her body, Booth smiled at the thought of her in his jersey. "I'm pretty sure that can be arranged, but . . . I'm not sure how long you'll get to wear it."

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Any good?

A/N: the clues were from their case "The Fire in the Ice".


	20. Chapter 20

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Entering the garage, Brennan stopped in the doorway and observed Booth place what looked like her ceramic conch shell against his ear. He held it there for a few minutes and suddenly laughed. Squatting down next to his daughter and son, he placed the shell against Christine's ear and once she nodded her head, placed it against his son's ear.

For some reason she couldn't quite fathom, she felt tears form in her eyes and then felt them escape her lashes.

She remembered the night she had received the conch shell tooth brush holder from her father. It had been a fatherly thing for the old con man to do and she had appreciated the effort. The shell had reminded her of simpler times, when she was a little girl sitting on the patio behind their house with her father as they talked of stars and comets, of sea shells and algae. He had ignited her interest in science and her love of how things worked.

The gift had been given to her after a stressful week that had culminated in the injury of Booth by Brodsky. Though not a believer in God or fate, she found it miraculous that her partner hadn't been killed in the explosion that Brodsky had set off in his trailer as Booth had run by it.

Though Booth had suffered a dislocated shoulder and a sprained ankle, Brennan knew that it could have ended up much worse. Even though he was with Hannah at the time, Brennan still loved him and cared deeply for him. The thought of losing him had caused her a few moments of terror when she had heard of the explosion and utter relief when she found out his injuries weren't as serious as they could have been.

After she had seen him with her own eyes, after she had verified that his injuries weren't as serious as she had feared she had gone with him to the Diner for a late dinner. Her father and Caroline had joined them at the Diner and they had discussed Booth's actions while they ate. For the first time in a long time, she had felt the comradeship of family pulling together around a loved one who needed a reminder that he wasn't alone in the world. Brennan didn't have a lot of family, but Max, Booth and Caroline were her loved ones even if she could never really admit that to any of them, at least not at that time.

During that period of time, she was still guarding her heart from Booth's new relationship and Max's old betrayal. Caroline was included in to her kinship because she was there for Booth and was part of his extended family. Booth's family was her family, even then.

Suddenly aware that his wife was in the garage with them, Booth turned and witnessed her crying. Alarmed at the sight of her tears, he walked rapidly across the garage and pulled her into a hug. "Hey, what's going on? What's wrong?"

Clutching his shirt, Brennan laughed. "Nothing is wrong, Booth . . . I'm just being silly that's all. I saw you hold the conch shell next to your ear and then against our children's ears and I just . . . I just started crying. I don't really know why."

Relieved that she wasn't the bearer of bad news, Booth kissed her and smiled. "We are pretty cute, so maybe that's why you cried . . . that old Booth charm at work, huh?"

Returning his kiss, Brennan placed her head on his shoulder and held him tightly in her grip. "Yes, that must be it. You are all three devastatingly cute."

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	21. Chapter 21

(The X in the Files)

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Staring at each other in wonder, Booth and his partner Temperance Brennan blurted out at the same time.

"Did you hear that?"

"What was it?"

Nervously chuckling, Booth looked up the sky and then at the surrounding area trying to spot what had startled them. "Aw, it was probably a coyote or a jack rabbit or whatever."

Her gaze flicking to her right and left, Brennan slowly nodded her head. "Yes, of course. What else would be out here besides ourselves?"

Booth decided that he wasn't really afraid, after all what was there to be afraid of? He was an FBI Agent for God's sake and a former Army Ranger. Rangers lead the way and that meant they didn't run from sounds. "We just spooked ourselves that's all . . . I mean, it's understandable. All this talk about aliens and . . . you know probing and stuff. We're fine."

Calming her racing heart, Brennan smiled. "Yes, we should probably go. It's getting late. We should leave early in the morning. We may be able to get a flight out to DC if we get to the airport early enough."

Slowly shaking his head, Booth corrected her. "Nope, I am not sitting in an airport all day trying to get a flight. I'll get online once we get back to the hotel and see about booking a flight. Maybe we can sleep in and get a good breakfast before we catch a flight."

His plan sounded better than hers, but she decided not to admit that. "Well, if that's what you want to do then that's what we'll do. I just thought we could be at the airport just in case someone cancels. We would be available and we could purchase their seats. We were told that they only have two airlines working out of the airport."

Hopping down from the truck, Booth quickly stepped around the truck and helped Brennan off the hood on to the ground below. Once she landed on her feet, Booth stood still, his hands on her waist, staring into her eyes.

The feel of his hands on her waist a novelty since he usually just touched her on her arms, the small of her back or her shoulders, Brennan slowly reached out and placed her hand on his arm. Staring into his face in the dim light, she realized that she couldn't really read whatever emotion that might be found on her partner's face. "I . . ." Swallowing, Brennan lowered her hand and looked up at the night sky. "It's beautiful out here. It isn't often that we get to see the stars so clearly. The light pollution in the District doesn't allow us to see what's above us at night."

Releasing her waist, Booth moved his hands so that he could hook his thumbs on his belt. "Yeah, it is nice out here, but I kinda like it back home better. It's too . . . isolated out here. I'm a city guy. You can take the boy out of Philadelphia but you can't take Philadelphia out of the boy."

The moment between them broken, Brennan smiled. "Yes, you do like the city environs better that the country." Stepping over to the passenger side of the truck, Brennan opened the door. "Perhaps we can stop somewhere on the way to our hotel room and get a cup of coffee."

Disappointed in himself, Booth wondered if he would ever have the courage to push the envelope, to cross that line between them. "Yeah, maybe we should and maybe we can get some pie too."

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	22. Chapter 22

(The Mummy in the Maze)

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Bones shot me. Damn, I knew someone was going to get hurt with that big ass gun of hers, but I didn't count on it being me. Shit!

I've told her more than once that she didn't need a gun because she had me. I'm her gun, but does she listen to me? No of course not. Why listen to me? I'm just the best sniper around here bar none, so what do I know about guns? Damn it!

When push came to shove, I had to give her my gun so she could protect herself and the kid which left me with five rounds in that cannon she called a gun to use against a demented clown. God, I hate clowns. I really really hate them.

I won of course, I am a great shot with any gun you give me, but even I have to admit that was a hell of a lucky shot. I shot that bastard through a steel door. I couldn't even see the guy. Just shot him right through the door and bam, he was dead. Shit I'm good.

One dead clown on my hands with a big hole in him that made me realize that me and my grazed leg were very lucky. I was lucky that when Bones shot me I didn't end up on the floor like that fucking clown. Ricochet or not, that was a close call.

I know one thing, I am going to accidentally lose that gun of hers. There is no way I'm going to give it back to her. I had to hand it over to another FBI Agent while my actions are being investigated, she knows that. You can't just kill a clown and not be investigated. At least not when I'm involved in the shooting. Not after I shot a mechanical clown head earlier this year and I had to see a shrink about it. They're going to look into this with a magnifying lens and make sure I didn't lose my shit again and this time kill a real clown.

Anyway, I'm going to tell Bones that it was stored in the evidence room by the investigating officer and they can't find it. She is not getting that cannon back. No way.

The EMTs checked my leg and that bullet just grazed me when it zinged by me, so it's painful, but not dangerous. A big bandage took care of it. Still, Bones shot me and I am not going to let her forget that either . . . ever.

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A little drabble.


	23. Chapter 23

Another game of Hide and Seek.

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Her phone pinged and she looked at her messages: _Where are you?_

Listlessly, she replied: _Underground_

_Is this a clue? Are we playing Hide and Seek?_

Staring at her phone, Brennan wasn't sure how to answer his question. Finally she entered: _I'm not sure I want to be found right now_

_Bones? Where are you?_

She knew she was worrying him, but she felt so cold inside, so lost: _Underground_

Like she had told him, Brennan wasn't sure she wanted to be found. She was sad and that sadness made her feel tired and apathetic. It had been two weeks since Hodgins had collapsed and had become paralyzed. She had tried to be optimistic, but she knew how the human body functioned only too well and she understood the ramifications of what was happening to her friend.

While Booth prayed for his friend to recover, Brennan could only stand by and hope that the epidural hematoma would lessen and stop the compression of his spine. It's possible her friend could walk again, but it was also possible he would be paralyzed for the rest of his life.

Hodgins was such a vibrant man and seeing him lying on his hospital bed, unable to move his legs left her feeling hopeless. It filled her with grief for him and Angela.

Normally she could bounce back from adversity. She'd done it so many times, but what was her breaking point? She'd been through so much in her life and the ones she loved had suffered through so much tragedy.

Her phone pinging again, Brennan looked at her latest message from Booth: _Give me a hint besides Underground. _

Brennan looked around and sighed: _He watched a young man die when the water came_

_Bones, don't move, stay there. I'm coming for you._

Booth had had a brain tumor, he'd been shot more than once, he'd been wrongfully imprisoned and she had been there to help him through those things. He'd lost a friend and he'd lost his faith. He'd gambled again and almost lost their family.

She had been there through all of it. She had been there for him.

She hadn't been immune from tragedy herself, being kidnapped and buried alive and of course she too had been shot. She had been falsely accused of murder which forced her to run away from the man she loved. The friend Booth lost was her friend too. She and Christine were the family Booth almost lost.

He had been there for her. Through all of it . . . for her.

And their friends suffered too. Lance Sweets had been murdered. When they lost Sweets they had lost a friend, but Daisy lost a lover, the father of her child. Her intern Vincent Nigel Murray had also been murdered and her favorite intern, Wendell had been forced to deal with a very deadly form of cancer. He was in remission for now, but who knew if that would last.

Booth had been strong and so had she because they had to be. They had been there for each other and for their friends.

Now Hodgins was paralyzed. How much tragedy was she supposed to deal with in her life before it became too much? Who was there for Hodgins? Who was there for Angela?

She sat where she was and didn't move. He'd asked her to do that and since she didn't want to move anyway it wasn't that hard to do. Time seemed to lose meaning as she grieved until he came.

"Bones, what's going on?" He moved his arm around her as he sat down next to her. "Bones?"

Collecting herself, Brennan placed her hand on his thigh. "I'm sad."

Aware that Brennan had slept very little since Hodgins had been hurt, Booth pulled her against his body. "I'm sorry that you're sad, Bones. I really am . . . What can I do to help you?"

Grateful for his concern, for his arm around her, for his kind words, for his love, Brennan answered softly. "You're doing it right now, Booth."

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A/N: the hints were from "The Bones on the Blue Line".


	24. Chapter 24

(The Lance to the Heart)

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Slumped on the couch, Booth let his head rest on the back of the couch as he allowed himself to think about the loss of his friend and felt a tear escape his lashes. He'd never had very many friends in his life and to lose one who was so young was just so unbelievable.

Aware that Booth was in mourning, Brennan sat down on the couch and placed her hand on his knee. "Do you need space?"

Opening is eyes, Booth turned to stare at his wife. "No, not really. I'm just sad right now. I know you are too. Maybe we can be sad together." Moving his arm around her shoulders he pulled her against his body. "He was just 29 years old. Damn it, he didn't even make it to 30. How is that fair?"

Certain his question was rhetorical, Brennan chose not to answer the question. Instead she had one of her own. "Why were you friends with Sweets? You had nothing in common and you considered him to be a pest."

"At first I did." Thinking about it, Booth decided to answer truthfully. If there was anyone on this wretched planet that he could be honest with it was with his partner. "I don't have a lot of friends."

If there was one thing Brennan knew, it was that Booth had a lot of friends. "That's not true. You have a lot of friends."

Snorting, Booth shook his head. "No, I really don't. I have guys that I know that I consider to be buddies, but that doesn't make them my friends . . . When you're friends with someone you share things about yourself. Friends know your past . . . your history. I don't have a history I like to share. You know why."

Thoughtfully, Brennan considered what he'd said and she realized that what he'd said was true for him. "But you considered Sweets a friend. You liked him a lot."

Her statement was true and he was willing to admit it. "Yeah, I considered him to be a friend because it was easy. He knew all about me. He knew about my Dad . . . Iraq . . . my . . . my rage for a better word. He knew all of that and he liked me and who doesn't want to be friends with someone when they don't give a shit about your past? He knew everything about me and he didn't care. I didn't have to explain myself to him because he knew who I was. So yeah he was my friend and I miss him even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes. He was . . . a sweet guy."

Tears filling her lashes, Brennan blinked and felt them slowly wind down her cheeks. "He was a very sweet man. Christine loved him and she is a good judge of character just like her father. He was a good friend to both of us . . . our baby duck."

The image of Sweets being a baby duck following them around made him smile. "Yeah . . . you know who else I consider a great friend of mine . . . my best friend?" Moving so that both arms were now around her, Booth leaned closer and whispered. "Hey best friend."

"Me?" Leery of being called his best friend, Brennan protested. "I'm your partner and wife. I am not your best friend . . . You need a wider world and it's not safe to make me all things to you."

Kissing her cheek, Booth spoke softly. "You are my world Bones. You make me feel safe and you are all things to me."

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.


	25. Chapter 25

(The Crack in the Code)

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I don't own Bones, not even a little bit.

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Hodgins had delivered his report to Brennan and with it a cup of coffee. Sitting on the chair in front of her desk, he pointed at the folder and decided to expound on what he thought was going on. "What I said at the American Heritage Museum is true you know. The Vatican had Abraham Lincoln assassinated because of his involvement in their cause against Charles Chiniquy. Father Chiniquy was excommunicated by Bishop O'Regan for some trumped up charges just because Chiniquy hated the way French Canadians were treated in Illinois. He left the church in 1858 and he swore that the church was behind the Confederate cause and that Lincoln's assassin was loyal to the church. John Wilkes Booth was secretly a member of the Knights of the Golden Circle and . . . ."

A noise catching his attention near the doorway, Hodgins turned his head and noticed Booth was standing there. The look on the agent's face told the entomologist that his final hour might have come.

Brennan quickly stood up and moved around her desk towards Booth, but stopped when he held up his hand and shook his head. "Don't." Turning, Booth marched down the hallway towards the entrance to the Lab and refused to look back when Brennan called his name.

Standing in front of her office, Brennan knew her partner was hurt and angry and hindsight being perfect, she realized that she should never have allowed Hodgins to regale her with his pet conspiracy theories about the Lincoln assassination.

Mortified that he had actually enraged Booth about his theory about the agent's relative, John Wilkes Booth, Hodgins worried that he'd just destroyed a valuable friendship. "I am so sorry, Dr. B. He hardly comes around here anymore and it never dawned on me that there was a chance he might hear me . . . I'm sorry."

Worried about Booth, Brennan turned and re-entered her office. "Cam did tell you not to talk about that particular topic. I should have told you to stop when you started telling me about it . . . Booth is a very loyal American and he loves his country so much. He is also a man of faith and he loves God and his church . . . The things you said only served to humiliate him and make him angry."

Hanging his head, Hodgins shook his head. "I made a mistake and now he hates me." Slowly, he walked past Brennan and out of her office. Moving down the hallway, he entered his office and sat down heavily on his chair near his PC. Placing his hand on the desk in front of him, he stared at the floor and tried to think about how he could fix what he had done.

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Not sure if he was doing the right thing or not, Hodgins knocked on the door frame of Booth's office and then stepped into the room. "Look, Booth, I'm really sorry . . . You know me, I have all these theories and . . . um, well I'm sorry I made you mad. I never ever meant to humiliate you or make you angry. I know you love the United States and you love being Catholic and . . ."

His eyes boring into the entomologist, Booth leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms against his broad chest. "Stop . . . just turn around and walk away while you can."

Slowly shaking his head, Hodgins moved further into the room. "I can't. You're my friend and I hurt you and it's not right. I need to apologize to you. It wasn't personal, it was a theory about what we found earlier today. Just a theory and . . . I don't want you to give up on being my friend because of what I said. It wasn't aimed at you or your beliefs . . . Look, I don't have a lot of friends and I can't afford to lose your friendship, you and Dr. B mean a lot to me. You know besides Angela and Michael Vincent I don't have any family . . . I'm sorry."

He was angry, but Booth hated to see a man grovel and Hodgins was coming close to that just to apologize to him. "We're friends, okay? I'm just mad at you right now and I need some space from you and your weird theories . . . You didn't know I was there and I know you weren't talking about me . . . just . . . just go back to the Jeffersonian and let me be mad at you. In a few days we'll be good . . . just don't ever make a crack about shit like that again. The next time I might take it personally."

Relieved that Booth wasn't ending his friendship, Hodgins walked over to Booth's desk and laid an envelope on top of it. "I did something and I don't want you to think I'm trying to buy your friendship because I'm not. I did it to show you that I love my country too and I'm proud to know people like you." Turning, he moved over to the doorway and looked back. "I'll keep away from you for a few days. You let me know when you're not angry with me anymore."

After he left, Booth picked up the envelope and removed a card from inside.

_A donation of $100,000 has been made in your name to Fisher House. _

Surprised, Booth shook his head and smiled.

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A/N: Fisher House is a real charity. It provides military families housing close to a loved one during hospitalization for an illness, disease or injury. It also funds a scholarship program for military families and provides military personnel and their families with free air travel and hotel rooms.


	26. Chapter 26

(The Sin in the Sisterhood - The Finder)

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I really don't own Bones.

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_You could love a lot of people in this world, but there's only one person that you love the most._

_And of course she had to ask me: How do you know which person you love the most when you're confused by chemical messages traveling throughout your limbic system?_

_My answer: you just do. _

_Of course she had to know because she's an empiricist: What if you let that person get away?_

_I tried to assure her: That person's not going anywhere._

She was confused and I tried to help her and all I did was confuse myself or did I?

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How does a man live with someone and love them, but have a friend and partner that they love more, that they love the most? If you think that isn't some messed up shit then you are crazy as hell.

I'm not sure how I got myself into this predicament and the only way I could see to get out of it was to go all in with the one I was living with. I'm an honorable man, well I try to be. Bones said she didn't want me and I backed off. She was afraid of emotional entanglements and after 6 years there was no hope that I could see that I could convince her that I really loved her. There was no hope that she would allow me to love her.

I can't live without hope. The only time I tried, I almost killed myself. That's what it's like to live with someone who is without hope. My father's hopes and dreams died and he wanted his sons and wife to live without them too.

I looked for someone else that would love me and I found her, but I didn't love her as much as I love Bones. A man can go crazy wanting something they can't have. Maybe that's what happened to me. For a while I was insane. That would at least explain what happened between me and Hannah and Bones. I lost my mind and I didn't move back into the world of reality until I forced the issue between Hannah and me and I asked her to marry me.

The rage of rejection forced me to look at myself and those around me and it made me realize that wishing something doesn't make it so. My hopes were destroyed and it forced me to give up my fantasies.

I wanted my Bones and I couldn't have her. I tried to move on and that failed too. I tried to force myself to live in a reality that never existed. It was a false hope and when that false hope was destroyed it almost destroyed me with it.

But hope was still there. It was singed and weak but it was still there and with it, I was able to accept that things had changed while I was living in my fantasy world . . . while I was insane.

Bones has changed. The empiricist had found her hope and her strength and she's been waiting for me to do the same. Hope isn't dead for either of us, Thank God.

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Just a little something something that popped into my head while watching "The Finder". Let me know what you think of it.


	27. Chapter 27

(After The Hole in the Heart)

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I don't own Bones which is probably a good thing.

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Waiting for Booth to come home, Brennan decided to read her latest issue of Anthropology Now when she realized it wasn't on the nightstand in the bedroom where she'd left it. After a fruitless search for it, she realized that it wasn't in the bedroom at all, so she expanded her search into the living room. A stack of magazines and albums catching her attention on the bookshelves, she flipped through them and found her attention captured by a photo album. Removing it from the stack she carried it over to the couch and sat down. Once she was settled comfortably, she flipped open the album and started to look at the photos and certificates displayed on each page.

She was roughly half way through the album when she was surprised to find a picture of her as a teenager. Brennan instantly recognized the picture as the one in the folder she had given Booth the first year they had started working together. The folder had contained her parents' missing person's report, a picture of Matt Brennan (Max Keenan) and Christine Brennan, a picture of Russ taken when he was aged 18 and one of her when she was aged 13. Surprised that Booth still had the picture, Brennan smiled at the thought that her boyfriend had kept the picture and had not returned it to her.

The picture was rather whimsical with her pointing a finger at her cheek and staring up. Her father had told her to be funny in the picture and that was her pose. She had thought the picture was lost or in the FBI archive, so finding it here in Booth's possession gave her one more reason to love her partner and friend.

Back from working out, Booth entered the apartment, moved down the hallway and once he spied Brennan, dropped the sports bag and rubbed his stomach. "Man my abs hurt."

Concerned, Brennan looked up and moved her gaze towards his stomach. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Slowly shaking his head, Booth walked over to the couch and sprawled down beside her. "No, I'm just getting old and sit-ups are getting harder to do."

Her arm slipping around his back, Brennan leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You are getting older that's true, but you're in very good physical condition . . . well besides your damaged feet and your bad back."

Booth realized that she meant well and chose to accept it as the compliment it was supposed to be. "Thanks." Glancing down he noticed the photo of Brennan and realized that he might need to explain why he had the picture. "Oh . . . you know that picture fell out of the folder you gave me of your parents and when I found it I'd already given the folder back to you and . . . um . . ." The skepticism on her face pretty plain, Booth laughed. "Okay sue me . . . you were so cute when you were a kid and since I didn't have a picture like that, I kept it."

Surprised, Brennan removed her arm from around his back and traced her finger around the image. "You thought I was cute?"

Pulling her closer to his side, Booth closed the album, moved it from her lap, tossing it on the coffee table. "Yes and now you're gorgeous." Pulling her across his lap, Booth started kissing her. Appreciating his sentiments, Brennan returned the kisses until they were interrupted by Booth's phone ringing.

"Damn it." Fumbling in his jacket pocket for his phone, he finally got it to his ear. "Booth . . . yeah . . . Bones and I will be there in about an hour . . . we uh . . . an hour." Ending the call, Booth smiled. "We got thirty five minutes to finish this and then we got to go look at a disgusting body."

Standing, Brennan laughed as she quickly removed her blouse. "That should be adequate . . . for now."

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Let me know what you think of my little drabble. Thanks.


	28. Chapter 28

The-Archives came up with a great story idea.

I don't own Bones.

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He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was alone in the room. So far so good. His fingers tapping on the keys, his frustration grew as once more his password was rejected. "Damn it!"

Bewildered, Booth stood in front of the keyboard and tried to think. He knew her probably better that anyone in the world and this should be a piece of cake, but so far he'd crapped out. "Come on . . . it shouldn't be this hard. I know everything she loves . . . Jupiter, daisies."

Inspiration striking him, Booth grinned and typed in a few letters and waited for success. "Fuck, what do you mean invalid password. Damn it!"

She entered the room and noticed Booth standing over her lap top. "What are you doing?"

Caught red handed, Booth decided to lie like a rug. "Nothing . . . I accidentally knocked your laptop off the nightstand and I placed it back where you had it."

Concerned, Brennan hurried around the bed and picked up her laptop. Staring at the log in screen, Brennan turned to look at her husband. "Did you try to log in?"

Since it was a direct question and he didn't really want to lie two times in a row to her, Booth shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."

Annoyed, Brennan turned so that her laptop was facing her but away from Booth and entered her password. Handing the laptop to him, she decided to see what he would do next. "Here . . . you may now use it."

His face flushed red with embarrassment, Booth accepted the PC and quickly checked the NHL scores from the previous evening. Once he was done, he handed the laptop back to his wife. "Thanks."

After she logged off and closed the lid, Brennan placed it back on her nightstand. "Couldn't figure out what my password was?"

His lips pursed as if he'd eaten a sour lemon, Booth shook his head. "I don't get it. I always can guess what your password is . . . what password are you using?"

A self-satisfied smirk on her face, Brennan primly informed him, "I'll never tell you."

"Oh come on." Booth jammed his hands in his pants pockets. "Why not? What if I want to check the scores again?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Brennan leaned back on her hands and looked up at her husband. "You can always use your laptop or turn the television on and check your sports channel. We do have the premium sports package that you insisted we needed."

Now that he was challenged, Booth sat down next to her and leaned on one hand on the bed. "I didn't think we had any secrets from each other." Leaning closer to her, he kissed her. His lips lingering near her lips, he used what he considered his sexy voice. "What's your password?"

Brennan returned his kiss and placed her hand on the side of his face. "I'm not telling you . . . You told me once that I'm not exactly CIA material, implying that you would always be able to guess my password . . . I think you're wrong."

Staring into her bright blue eyes, Booth suddenly laughed. "Fine . . . keep your password a secret." Kissing her once more, he let the kiss between them progress to the point that they were both quite breathless. Separating their lips momentarily, Booth assured her. "If I really needed to break in to your PC, I could you know."

Her hand slowly moving towards his shirt, she moved her hand under the hem causing him to shiver. "No I don't think so . . . of course you're welcome to try."

A little breathless, Booth stood up and removed his shirt. "Forget it. The kids are at the zoo with Max, let's not argue about it."

As she sat up to remove her blouse, Brennan assured him. "I'm not arguing, I'm stating a fact."

His hands on his hips, Booth stared at his wife and realized that she had beaten him and he was okay with that for now. "Fine, you win."

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Later that evening, while Booth was in the bathroom taking a shower, Brennan pulled her lap top onto her lap and logged in using her favorite password: SeeleyJosephBooth.

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I hope you were entertained.


	29. Chapter 29

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I really don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

The sun was hot overhead so Booth and Brennan were enjoying their stay on the beach under a wide umbrella planted in the sand. Two blankets spread around the pole kept them nice and comfortable and Booth found the day to be perfect. His attention grabbed by a passing sail boat, he was reminded about Sully's attempt to take Brennan away from the Jeffersonian and him.

Brennan's eyes closed, Booth looked at her and assumed she was asleep. His thoughts still on the past, he smiled and spoke very softly. "I didn't want you to go you know . . . not really. Sully . . . Sully loved you and I thought you loved him and when you asked me if you should go, I thought I was giving you the advice you needed, but I didn't want you to go."

Her eyes now open and staring at her surprised husband, Brennan frowned as the last of his words were spoken. "If you wanted me to stay then why didn't you tell me that?"

Caught in his moment of sentimental honesty, Booth blushed and looked away. "I thought you wanted to go, but you were afraid to make the decision. I wanted you to make the decision that was right for you . . . I didn't want you to be afraid to try new things. Your world was so small at that time . . . I mean yeah you were a famous anthropologist and your first book was a hit and your second book was just starting to be a best seller, but . . . your world was still so small. Angela told me that Sully's world was big . . . bigger than mine and she wanted you to experience that and I . . . I thought maybe she was right."

Irritated with his reasoning, Brennan sat up, pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. "I wasn't afraid to go with Sully, Booth. I liked him. I really did, but his plans . . . even though they sounded romantic, they weren't. He wanted me to give up my work, my friends . . . my life and go live with him on a boat. He meant well and I know he liked me, but where was the compromise? He wanted me to give up everything with no thought of the future. I'm not like that. I've worked very hard to get where I am today and that took planning and sacrifice. I couldn't go with him. You and Angela were wrong. What Sully was offering would not have made me happy and I knew that even if you didn't."

The tone of her voice telling him that she was not happy with him, Booth sighed and turned to look at her. "I was trying to be your friend. I didn't know if you would be happy going with Sully or not, but I didn't want you to have regrets . . . still, I was very happy that you didn't go." Placing his arm around her shoulders, Booth kissed her cheek. "I really hated Sully for a while there. That bastard was trying to steal my friend and partner from me and I wanted to . . . I don't know what I wanted to do, but man . . . I was so happy to see that guy sail away alone. You there on the dock waving at him . . . I knew you were going to be sad, but damn I was so happy."

Turning her head, Brennan placed her hand on the small of his back and leaned over to kiss him. His kiss a little more passionate than the cheek kiss, Brennan allowed him move her so that she was lying on the blanket looking up into his eager face. "I'm glad we're still friends, Booth. Aren't you?"

His lips hovering over hers, Booth smiled. "It's the glue that keeps us going, Bones." His lips now pressed against hers, Booth decided that they were talking too much. Their kisses increasing in passion, Booth finally stopped and looked around. "Okay, I think we need to go back to our hotel room. It's getting a little too hot out here."

Amused, Brennan sat up and grabbed her sarong and sandals. "Yes, we should go back to our room." Standing, she waited for her husband to place his flip-flops on and grab their blankets. "I told you this would be a good place to take a vacation."

Following her back to their hotel, Booth kept his eyes on his wife's swaying hips as she walked in front of him. "Oh yeah, Bones. You were absolutely right."

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I just watched 'The Boneless Bride in the River' and this popped into my head. Hope you liked it.


	30. Chapter 30

Thank you for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

The game at the half way mark, Booth was growing frustrated with the defensive line. Furious that the quarterback had been sacked twice in the last two plays of the second quarter, he was cursing when his daughter entered the room.

"Daddy, I need your help."

Embarrassed that she had heard him use curse words, Booth blushed and turned the sound down on his TV. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been using bad words . . . Don't repeat those please. They're very bad words and not to be used by anyone in this family."

Holding up a bottle of finger nail polish, Christine thrust the bottle at her father. "I need you to help me put this on, Daddy. Mommy promised to paint my nails today so I could have pretty nails for Jane's birthday party this afternoon, but she's at work. Please Daddy."

Disconcerted, Booth took the bottle and looked at it. "Aren't you too young for this?"

Shocked, Christine stamped her foot. "Daddy, I'm ten years old. I'm not a baby. Mommy usually helps me because she says I'm messy . . . please Daddy. Jane's party is in two hours."

His eyes flicking between the TV screen, his daughter and the nail polish. Booth finally turned the TV off. "Alright . . . go sit at the island." Muttering under his breath, Booth carried the bottle over to the island and sat down next to his daughter. "Hold your fingers steady or you'll end up with painted fingers."

Pressing her splayed hand on to the counter, Christine watched as he father shook the little bottle and then opened it. "Do you know how to put the polish on, Daddy?"

The bottle now open, Booth looked at the glistening bright orange nail polish on the brush. "Of course I know how. Who do you think did your mother's toenails when she was pregnant with Hank? . . . Well I did it once and I think I did a pretty good job."

Hank, hearing his name used as he walked down the hallway, hurried over to the island and crawled up on one of the chairs. Finally leaning over the counter, he watched his father paint his sister's fingernails. "Me next Daddy."

Startled, Booth looked at his son, "Nope . . . Just Christine, Hank. This is girly stuff."

"Nah uh." Shaking his head, Hank moved a little closer to his sister, so he could watch her nails being transformed. "I seen guys with paint on their fingers." Poking his tongue in his cheek, he studied the job his father was doing. "You gots record albums with guys with paint on their fingers."

Pausing, Booth glanced at his son and scowled. "They're musicians, Hank. Musicians do a lot of things normal people don't do."

Confused, Hank placed his hands on the counter and leaned on them. "Like what?"

His four year old son was curious like his wife and daughter and Booth was proud of that, but sometimes they all asked him questions that he didn't want to answer. "Um . . . They're like clowns. You know clowns wear makeup and most guys don't . . . see?"

Leaning on his elbows, Hank pouted, "I want orange fingers, Daddy. I can wear my Phillies shirt and my fingers would be orange too."

Hanks plea made Booth realize that it wasn't that big a deal if it made his boy happy. "Alright . . . I guess it's alright."

Slipping off his chair, Hank ran down the hallway to his bedroom. "I'll go get my shirt."

Amused, Christine rolled her eyes. "He really loves the Flyers."

Proud of his children, Booth smiled. "Yeah . . . he sure does."

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Let me know what you think of my drabble. Thank you.


	31. Chapter 31

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

The sight of her father sitting on the diving board swinging his legs back and forth drew Christine's attention. Curious, she swam over to where he was sitting and grabbed his right leg. "Dad . . . why do you have a scar on your leg. I've never noticed this one before. I know why you have a scar on your knee and your chest and your stomach because I've seen them and Mom told me what happened, but why your leg?"

Looking down at the faint scar, Booth laughed and shook his head. "Your mother shot me."

Shocked, fifteen year old Christine's eyes widened and turned to stare at her mother. "Mom . . . Mom why did you shoot Dad? What did he do? Does Hank know about this? Wait until he gets back from Aunt Angela's house and I tell him."

Unable to help himself, Booth laughed and turned his gaze upon his wife. "Hank doesn't know Christine . . . Your Mom and me were on a case and she had this big ass . . . um, this big gun and she shot me with it because she wanted to shoot off a lock on a door."

Her glaring eyes aimed at her husband, Brennan leaned forward on the chaise lounge. "I did not shoot your father. When I shot at the lock the bullet ricocheted and hit him in the leg . . . grazed his leg. I can't be held accountable for ricochets."

Irritated that she still wouldn't admit that she had been in the wrong, Booth stood up and hopped down onto the cement walkway encircling the pool. "Ha, don't even go there. The gun was in your possession, you fired it ipso facto columbo oreo you are responsible for shooting me. You shot me. Admit it."

"Where did you hear that phrase?" Staring in wonder at her husband, Brennan stood up and cross her arms against her breasts. "Ipso facto columbo oero . . . where did you hear that?"

Puzzled, Booth moved closer to where Brennan was standing and placed a hand on her upper arm. "It's something I've heard you say in your sleep . . . are you alright? It's just made up isn't it? It sure isn't real Latin . . ."

Lowering her arms, Brennan glanced at her daughter who was holding onto the diving board and watching them. Not sure whether she should say anything in front of her child, Brennan turned her gaze back towards Booth. "Someone told me that a long time ago when I was feeling sad and . . . . a little lost. He was trying to be amusing."

Not sure why her demeanor had changed to sadness, Booth pulled her into his embrace and held her. "I'm sorry, Bones. If that brings back some bad times for you . . . I didn't mean to make you sad. I won't say it again."

Her arms around his chest, Brennan smiled though it was a sad smile and leaned her face against his shoulder. "No . . . it's alright. It's in the past and it was at a time when I thought I would always be alone . . . I'm fine."

"You'll never be alone, Bones." His eyes on Christine, he smiled as he saw her leave the pool and run towards them. As the teenager threw herself at Brennan, Booth laughed. "Not when we have our own personal munchkins to make us happy."

"Don't Cry Mom." Not sure what was going on, Christine hugged her mother. "I love you Mom."

Feeling a little emotional, Brennan placed her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "I'm not crying Christine. I was just thinking about something sad. I'm alright now."

Relieved that her mother wasn't really crying, Christine kissed her cheek. "Don't think about sad things Mom. Think about happy things."

"Now why didn't I think about that as a solution?" Kissing her child, Brennan smiled at Booth. "I didn't shoot you Booth. It was an accident."

Resigned to the fact that she was never going to admit her part in that little fiasco, Booth laughed. "You keep telling yourself that Bones. I've got the facts on my side and you don't."

"Whatever Booth . . . whatever."

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Let me know what you think of my little drabble. Thanks.


	32. Chapter 32

Thank you for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it.

I don't own Bones, not even a little bit.

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

The house too quiet for her taste, Brennan decided to find out what was going on with her family. After searching the house, she entered the garage through the side door and found the garage door open and noticed Booth sitting on a chair just inside the front of the garage facing the driveway. Curious, she walked over to where he was sitting and placed her hand on his shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

With a grunt, Booth pointed down the driveway. "The kids wanted to do a lemonade stand."

Surprised, Brennan studied her children and noticed that they were sitting on chairs facing a table with a pitcher of lemonade in front of them, several disposable glasses next to the pitcher and a cooler at their feet. "They aren't very busy."

Rubbing his chin, Booth agreed. "I told them we live on a quiet street . . . we don't have a lot of kids in the neighborhood and a lot of people are at work today even if it is Good Friday . . . They wanted to try it anyway, so I made the lemonade and set up the table and chairs. They have a stack of comic books to keep them occupied, so it's all good."

Her eyes on her children, Brennan moved around and sat on Booth's lap. "Have they had any customers at all?"

Booth's large hand on her hip, he looked up at her. "Yeah, Mrs. Norquist walked across the street and bought two glasses and took them back home. The Fedex guy stopped and bought one glass and some guy riding a bike stopped and bought a glass, so they've sold 4 glasses of the stuff so far."

"Why are you sitting in the garage watching them?" Her arms around his shoulders, Brennan stared into his beautiful brown eyes.

His gaze moving towards Christine and Hank, Booth frowned. "You can't be too careful when it comes to our kids . . . We've made a lot of enemies over the years and . . . well, I wanted to make sure they're okay."

Sometimes Brennan felt that her heart would burst from the love she felt for her man, even though she knew that was physically impossible. It just seemed that loving Booth made the impossible things possible and his love and care for his family made her love him more. Her eyes taking in his handsome profile, Brennan leaned over and kissed his cheek and then nuzzled his neck.

Soon her nuzzles turned to kisses on his neck sending shivers through him. "Bones . . . Bones I have to watch the kids and . . . "

"I know." Kissing his lips this time, Brennan pressed her lips against his lips and soon had them both panting. "This is just a precursor of what I expect we'll be doing tonight."

His eyes twinkling for her, Booth laughed. "Maybe we can get the kids to go to bed early."

Unable to help herself, Brennan kissed him once more. "I doubt it, but we can try."

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Let me know what you think of my drabble. Thank you


	33. Chapter 33

(The Lost Love in the Foreign Land)

A/N: I had a few requests for more 'Hide and Seek'.

I don't own Bones.

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This case had been rough on the both of them. A woman had been murdered because another lost soul like her had feared for her own child's life. The victim had simply wanted to find her fiancé, the man she loved and instead she had been killed, forever separated from the one she loved the most.

His day seemed to be conspiring against him. No matter what Booth did, something went wrong and he was getting tired of it. First one of his agents had been ticketed for reckless driving and he was forced to make the man go to driving school. It was ridiculous, but what could he do? Stark was having a hemorrhage over it and it didn't matter that the Agent had been on the way to a bank robbery.

Then Caroline came in to his office and busted his chops all because she'd lost her last case due to the fact that Agent Lewis had lost a key piece of evidence. Lewis insisted it was never handed over to him, but he was the agent in charge of that particular crime scene and he was being made the scape goat. _I tell them over and over again, but do they listen to me. Fuck no!_

His cherry on his sundae was when Brennan called to cancel her lunch with him. The CIA had dropped a body by the Lab and she was being pressured to identify it as soon as possible. _I should kick Danny's ass just on principle. I'm in no mood to deal with the CIA and neither is Bones._

His phone pinging, Booth picked it up and found a message from his wife. _They came for a new life, suffered tragedy, but are now happy._

Booth had thought that Brennan was still unhappy about their last case and now he knew it. Quickly thinking about how to reply, Booth smiled. "_Hey how about we go out tonight on a date? _

Her reply came quickly. _His father was first buried near Franklinia Alatamaha because it was beautiful. _

He'd seen that name written before, but hell if he could remember what it was. "_Are we playing Hide and Seek because if we are, I don't know what that Franky thing is?"_

No more new messages, Booth felt like he'd let her down, but if she wanted to play, she had to at least speak American if she wanted to play fair. Deciding he was hungry, he logged off of his PC, slipped on his jacket and stuffed his phone into a pocket.

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His hamburger and fries finally arrived and just as he popped a fry in to his mouth his phone pinged.

_You were late for a funeral and I was irritated with you at the time. I know why now._

Hastily swallowing his fry, Booth stared at his phone. _Yeah, I was late. No I don't think so._

Her reply was almost instantaneous. _Come to me at 6 and I will prove it. Their final resting place is beautiful._

"Final resting place?" Surprised at the turn of phrase, Booth shook his head. _This better be you, Bones._

A final message appeared_. Be there at 6 and you'll know for sure._

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He entered the cemetery and saw Brennan standing next to the grave stones for Augustin and Maria Duarte. Once he was beside her, he crossed himself and said a quick prayer for the two laying in repose before him.

After he was done, Booth placed his arm around her shoulders. "Kind of an odd place to meet, don't you think?"

Brennan moved her arm around his back and rested her hand on his hip. "Our case reminded me of Jose and Rosa and how they almost lost everything too."

Pulling her against his side, Booth shook his head. "Yeah, but they didn't. They're in Philadelphia and they're citizens now like their son." Uncertain, Booth cleared his throat. "You don't really know why I was late for the funeral."

"You threatened to kill Ramon Ortez if he hurt me." Smugly, Brennan released her arm from around her husband and turned to face him. "You talk in your sleep when you have nightmares, Booth. I found out about six months after we started living together . . . At first I was very angry with you, but then I decided that there was no point. Five years had gone by and many things had transpired between us. That was the least of those things. You did what you felt had to be done because that is who you are."

Relieved, Booth pulled her into his embrace. "I'd do anything for you, Bones. I've told you before that I'd kill for you and if Ortez had done anything to you . . . He'd be a dead man right now."

"I know." Brennan held her arms tightly around her man. "I love you Booth."

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Let me know what you think of my little story. Thanks.

A/N: clues were for 'The Woman in the Garden'.


	34. Chapter 34

(The Tiger in the Tale)

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I definitely don't own Bones.

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It'd just popped into his head and he wanted her to hear it, so while they were talking about the case, he'd looked in to her beautiful blue eyes and smiled. "That animal was beautiful. It was beautiful and rare, just like you." And she'd ignored it. It was probably the best line he'd ever used on her and she'd just bulldozed right over it. _Maybe she didn't really hear me. _"Sorry, did you hear what I said? It was sweet."

Still she acted like he hadn't said anything special and he knew it wouldn't do any good to dwell on it. She knew she was beautiful and she didn't need him to tell her that and yet, it was the best damn line he'd ever used on her or any other woman in his life and she hadn't been impressed one bit. _Damn!_

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And yet, she surprised him. They'd been talking about her running for President. She wasn't exactly a candidate he could vote for and he had to be honest why. "I really, really wouldn't give you your own army or nuclear weapons. That would be a disaster."

"Because I'm like a tiger?"

He'd been thrown with that statement. "Excuse me?"

She'd heard him after all and she'd remembered it. "Earlier today . . . you said I reminded you of a wild tiger."

Not sure where she was going with that, he'd acknowledged she was right. "I did . . . you do."

Her features softened and she smiled. "You called me rare and beautiful . . . Like a tiger you said."

Really surprised that she was bringing that up, Booth realized that she had heard him, but she had been too busy trying to work on the case to stop and allow his line to stop her. "I thought you didn't hear."

Brennan knew she probably should have responded when he'd said it earlier that day, but she was so caught up in their case and she hadn't wanted to be sidetracked. Booth could be so sweet to her sometimes and if she allowed it, he could frazzle her a little bit. Still he had said it and it had been sweet and he really needed to know that she had heard it. It also meant that he might have a point. "Wild tigers do not have the qualities of a good president."

Booth knew his partner and mate was brilliant, but she would make a terrible president and yet, he would never get in the way of any goals she might have. "You know what Bones. I wouldn't vote for you, but I would definitely encourage other people to vote for you."

He confused her sometimes and this was no exception and yet, he was Booth and he loved her. His shirt filled with vote for Bones buttons had both amused her and confused her and that was part of their relationship.

They both confused each other sometimes and yet they never let that confusion interfere in their relationship. They were two sides of the same coin, completely different and yet part of the fabric that made up the coin. Together they made that coin valuable and strong.

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Just a little something that popped into my head. I hope you liked it. Let me know. Thanks.


	35. Chapter 35

(The Lost love in the Foreign Land)

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I don't own Bones.

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Dancing was their thing. It has been for a while. Whenever Brennan felt sad, Booth would put on some slow music and they'd dance. It made her feel better and to be truthful, it made him feel better too.

"Bones, you remember that time when we were at your High School reunion and you wanted to dance a slow dance?" They were barely moving, but that's how they danced most of the time anyway.

Her left arm was hooked around his shoulder, her right hand clasped in his hand. "Yes, they were playing Kiss From a Rose."

Booth hadn't thought about that dance for a while, but holding her in his arms, he realized just how far they'd come. "I'm sorry I hesitated about dancing with you. I didn't mean to . . . you know, make you uncomfortable."

Relaxed in his arms, Brennan swayed to the music, her eyes closed. "Why didn't you want to dance with me? You danced fast dances with me . . . why did you hesitate over that song?"

A little embarrassed when he thought about it now, Booth pulled her closer towards his body. "I . . . um . . . well, you wanted us to be just friends and to tell you the truth, I was afraid to dance with you this close."

Her body pressed against his, Brennan leaned her chin on his shoulder, "You wanted to keep room for the Holy Spirit. I didn't know what that meant."

Hips pressed against hips, they swayed to the music. "Well Bones, when you keep room for the Holy Spirit you don't let certain parts of your bodies touch because it might cause . . . reactions. We were just friends and I didn't want to um . . . react to you pressed against me when we were dancing."

"I see." Moving her arm, Brennan placed her arm around his chest and continued to sway to the music. "But we don't need room for the Holy Spirit now."

"No, definitely not." He kissed her cheek and continued to dance. "I love the feel of your body next to mine . . . us just dancing. It makes me happy."

She felt him stop moving and she stopped with him. Her eyes now open, Brennan stared into Booth's eyes. "It makes me feel wanted. When we dance . . . it makes me feel like we belong together."

Slowly releasing her hand, Booth brushed her hair aside and kissed her once more. "You are wanted Bones." Moving his arm around her chest, he started to move them back into their very slow dance. "You and me this is what I've always wanted."

As she moved against him, Brennan felt his arms hold her in a comforting embrace. "I love dancing with you."

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Let me know what you think of my drabble. Thanks.


	36. Chapter 36

(The Pathos in the Pathogens)

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"That was so hot what you did to Dr. Thorne, Bones . . . so . . . damn . . . hot." He kissed her in the living room. His hands traveled down and rested on her hips.

Amused, Brennan reminded him of the facts. "There was no virus in the needle, Booth. I couldn't have killed him if I had wanted to and I didn't want to. I just wanted him to tell us where the antiserum was since you couldn't force the information from him."

His forehead resting against her forehead, Booth smiled. "Oh I know, but that ass didn't know that and that's what was so hot about it. You bluffed him. You jabbed a needle in the guy's neck and you dared him to not take you seriously. I definitely wouldn't want to play poker with you."

Her hands placed on his sides, Brennan kissed him and paused to think about what he had said. "Well, since you are in Gamblers Anonymous it would be very unwise of you to gamble, but if you did I would be a worthy opponent I can assure you."

"Oh I know, believe me I know." Booth felt so lucky to know and be with the woman of his dreams and he was constantly amazed at how brave she was. "You saved Arastoo's life. I couldn't get that guy to talk and believe me I tried. I couldn't beat it out of him even though I wanted to."

Kissing him once more, Brennan stepped away from Booth and removed her jacket. "I know, that is why I did what I did. You were trying to save Arastoo and short of breaking the law there was nothing you could do to make Thorne give us the location of the antiserum. I on the other hand had no constraints against my actions."

As he loosened his tie, Booth watched Brennan remove her shoes and walk over to the staircase. "You may have to talk to Cullen, Bones. You did assault Thorne and the FBI gets a little anxious when that kind of thing happens."

Not really concerned, Brennan paused at the staircase. "He told us the location of the antiserum and I saved a man's life. I think the FBI will find a way to overlook what I did. I don't believe it will come up at his trial either. Think of the repercussions. His lawyer can hardly stand before a jury and tell them that their client had developed a deadly virus which had killed one person and had imperiled another then refused to save the man when he had an antiserum available. He's already in trouble for murder. The thought of a viral infection loosed among the populace and Thorne standing by and letting it happen would certainly usher him into the electric chair that much quicker."

Her reasoning sound as always, Booth flipped his jacket over his shoulder and followed Brennan upstairs. "I love that brain of yours Bones. Just love it."

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.


	37. Chapter 37

(After The Babe in the Bar - season 6)

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I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

"Booth, it's going to be a while before we eat lunch, may I have your candy bar." She didn't know why she was famished, but she was.

His eyes on the road, Booth reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out what he had stowed there and handed Brennan a granola bar. "This is all I got, Bones. Sorry."

Perplexed, Brennan looked at the wrapped oat bar and then back at Booth. "Um . . . this is unusual. You normally carry candy bars in your jacket pocket. This is . . . not candy."

Annoyed, Booth cleared his throat. "Yeah, well I'm not exactly into candy right now, especially chocolate. It's the granola bar or some gum cause that's all I got on me right now."

A sly smile on her face, Brennan tore the wrapper from the bar and noticed it didn't have any chocolate chips embedded in the bar. "You really are avoiding chocolate . . . Did our last case bother you that much? It's not like its common to find human body parts in chocolate . . . insect legs yes, but human legs no."

The thought of the liquefied body in the giant chocolate bar still made him feel queasy and he wasn't about to eat any chocolate for a while. "Hey you're the one who is constantly telling me I eat too much junk food. I cut down on candy, so shouldn't you be proud of me for taking your advice instead of making fun of me?"

Dismayed by his response, Brennan placed her hand on his arm. "You are right of course. Congratulations Booth. You're doing yourself a favor by cutting down on sugary products and eliminating candy from your diet is a good start."

"Thanks Bones." He hated to admit it, but sometimes their cases really upset him. He admired Brennan's ability to dissociate from the things she saw. She never let gross bodies bother her too much which was more that he could say about himself. "To tell you the truth . . . yeah, the thought of that body in the chocolate bar has put me off chocolate. Sweets was eating a chocolate bar and I took it away from him and threw it in the trash can. It just seemed . . . wrong. Like any second he was going to bite into a cheek or something . . . sometimes I wish I could be like you and just not let it bother me."

She knew that Booth hated to admit weaknesses and she was proud that he was able to talk to her about them. "We all have our strengths Booth . . . and forgoing chocolate for a while will definitely benefit you . . . although the more we talk about candy and chocolate the more I would like to have a candy bar. When we stop at the gas station for gas I will buy one." Unable to help herself, she snickered. "Of course I will eat it out of your sight. I don't want you to take it from me and throw it away."

Her sense of humor odd sometimes. Booth chose to let that one slide.

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Let me know what you think of my little story. Thanks.


	38. Chapter 38

(The Suit on the Set)

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I don't own Bones. Not even a little bit.

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He slammed the front door shut after he entered the house and threw his sports bag on the floor near the couch. Stalking into the kitchen, Booth yanked the fridge door open and pulled out a bottle of water. Glaring at the chocolate cake sitting on the counter, he slammed the fridge door and marched out of the room almost running into Brennan. "Sorry."

As she grabbed Booth to keep from falling, Brennan felt his hands grab her arms and between the two of them she remained upright. "I thought I heard you come in. There was a lot of slamming going on."

After he released her arms, Booth leaned over and picked up the bottle of water he'd dropped. "Yeah, sorry about that." Opening the bottle he stared at the cap in his hand. "I think I'm getting fat."

Surprised, Brennan raked her eyes over his body and shook her head. "I don't think so. You look fine to me."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth twisted the cap back on the bottle then back off. "I weighed in and I gained five pounds."

Amused that Booth was so worried about his weight, Brennan walked around him and into the kitchen. "You fluctuate in weight all of the time, Booth. It depends upon your exercise regimen and whether or not you've increased your weight training."

Slowly turning, Booth followed Brennan back into the kitchen. "You told me in California that if I didn't stop eating all those donuts I was going to gain weight and I did. I gained five pounds."

Not really concerned, Brennan grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and cut it up into sections. "Booth . . . you're not fat. I merely pointed out that while we were in California you were eating an excessive amount of sweets and you weren't exercising. Now that you are back home and you're eating sensibly again and exercising you will not have to worry about gaining weight. Like I said, your body weight fluctuates all of the time. You're worrying about nothing."

The cap back off of the bottle of water, Booth drank a third of the bottle and placed it on the counter. "Well, if you think so . . ."

As she handed Booth a slice of apple, Brennan turned and glanced at the cake on the counter. "Perhaps if you are so worried about gaining weight, I should take the cake to work and leave it in the break room."

Shocked at the idea, Booth shook his head. "Wait up . . . you can't just give my cake away. I'm going to eat that . . . not all at once, but you are not giving my cake away."

"I thought you were worried about the five pounds you gained." Handing him another apple slice, Brennan fought to keep from laughing. "I am merely trying to . . . "

Booth moved over to where his cake rested on the counter and turned to look at Brennan. "Okay . . . no, I get it and I think I was just over reacting. Yeah, no I'm not gaining weight I um . . . I'll have those five pounds off by the end of the week, so leave my cake here. I'll just throw in a few more miles when I jog in the morning . . . a few more sit ups . . . you leave my cake alone."

Turning, Brennan walked towards the door, her hand plastered over her mouth trying to keep from laughing.

Suspicious, Booth followed her out of the kitchen and watched her walk upstairs. As she reached the landing, Booth heard her laugh. "It's not funny, Bones."

"Sure it is Booth."

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Just a little something I thought of watching Booth eat donuts the other day.


	39. Chapter 39

(After The Woman in the Whirlpool)

I don't own Bones.

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He'd finally admitted to himself that he'd slipped and it had been bad, so he'd spent the last few weeks trying to get himself under control. He was doing it to save what he had. It had taken him years to get what he'd wanted and to just risk it all for gambling was probably the craziest thing he'd ever done. The fact that Brennan was supporting him was the key to his recovery and he knew it. She had thrown him out of the house to remind him that he had a lot to lose and she'd encouraged him to get the help he needed.

Booth knew to outsiders that it might have appeared a cold thing to do on her part, but he knew his Bones and he knew that she had reasoned out all of the ramifications of her actions before she did them. She had chosen the path that would force him to get his addiction under control and to do it the right way. He was grateful to her and he defended her actions to anyone that tried to question them. He was weak and she was his strength. He knew that even if no one else did. She had been the reason he'd given up gambling in the first place and she was the reason he had to quit again.

He had just moved back home again and he was being careful. He had to prove to his wife that letting him come back home was the right thing to do and that meant he had to avoid situations that tempted him to gamble. Booth loved Brennan and he had no intention of losing her or his daughter.

The text message surprised him. _We had an appointment and it lasted a lot longer than I expected._

Not sure what Brennan meant, Booth sent a return message: We had an appointment for something?

A message popped up on his phone: _You wanted to let him down gently. We told our story._

Confused, Booth sent off a reply: Are we playing Hide and Seek?

No message came back and Booth shrugged his shoulders. "Okay."

An hour later, he received another message. _I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I was afraid. I didn't want to lose your friendship._

That message disturbed Booth: Bones, you did what you had to do. I'm the one who's sorry. This was my fault.

_I was impervious. I'm not impervious any more. _

_My happiness is contingent upon your happiness._

_I accept that now._

Booth was hoping that Brennan was playing Hide and Seek with him, because her messages were scaring him: Bones, tell me where you are.

_Nothing happens unless first a dream._

I'm on my way Bones. I'm coming right now.

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She was sitting on the bench near the steps leading up to the building. Booth was relieved that she appeared to be alright, but still those messages . . . "Bones, I'm here." As he sat down beside her, he noticed the sad look on her face. "Are you alright?"

Looping her arm around his arm, Brennan leaned against him. "I was just having a bad day. I'm not sure why. Pregnancy hormones perhaps . . . You're home and we're a family again, but . . . I was afraid Booth. It may not have appeared like it, but I was. I was afraid I'd made a mistake forcing you out of the house and now I'm afraid I've made a mistake letting you come back too soon . . . No, Booth, I'm sorry. That isn't true. I'm glad you're back, it's just . . ."

He knew she was worried about his gambling and who could blame her? "Bones you did everything right. You know me and you know what makes me tick. Making me leave forced me to get my act together. You made the right decision and I'm not going to mess this second chance up. I know you're worried and I guess you should be, but I'm doing everything to make sure I don't screw up again. And guess what? My happiness is contingent on your happiness too. We're together because we were meant to be together. You and me . . . we're in this thing for life. I love you."

His words made her feel better and that is what she had counted on. She knew if she saw him that he would do that for her. He always did. "I love you too, Booth."

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.

A/N: The clues were from "The Parts in the Sum of the Whole".


	40. Chapter 40

(The Head in the Abutment)

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I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Booth had thought it was strange. Daryl Patterson, one of their suspects in the murder of Seth Lange had known Booth the minute he'd seen him. It had taken Booth a reminder from Patterson why they should know each other. Patterson had been the goalie when Booth had taken his penalty shot during the state championships in high school.

Booth hadn't thought about it in years. It was just a blip in his past, but Patterson still lived that moment. How the equipment manager remembered that moment in time was wrong too, which didn't bother Booth because his team had won, but still, why Patterson thought he'd swiped the puck away before it crossed the line when that didn't happen was more than a little delusional as far as Booth was concerned.

He'd made the shot, it went in and life went on for him, but not for Daryl Patterson.

It was times like that that Booth still wished Sweets was around. He liked to know why people did the things they did. That's why he was a pretty good investigator, but sometimes people puzzled him and he couldn't quite figure out why they thought the way they thought.

The past was the past and Booth tried not to live there. He knew that was hard to do, but his past had so many bad moments and he didn't wish to relive any of them. It puzzled him why other's chose a moment in time and stayed there, never moving forward, never growing from the experience.

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Sometimes we're forced to relive a moment. Daryl was a thorn in his side and he wanted a shootout between them. Booth thought that would be a good way to rid Patterson of his delusions and let go of the past, but standing in front of the man, ready to hit the puck in to the net, it dawned on him that some people live in the past because their lives aren't what they thought it would be.

The small crowd in front of Booth was cheering for Patterson and Booth knew that the man standing before him had a lot riding on this moment in time. He wanted to prove to his family and friends that he was good at something and that he'd been wronged in the past.

Booth had nothing riding on this shot and his family didn't need proof that he was good at anything. His wife and partner was standing on the side line cheering him on because that's what she did. She would be proud of him whether he hit the net or not. It didn't matter to her so it didn't matter to him.

He took aim and his shot was deflected. That miss vindicated Patterson in the eyes of his family. Booth saw the relief in the man's eyes and the pride he now had that he was good at something and no one could deny it.

Booth hoped Patterson used that vindication wisely and moved away from the past.

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Over the years, Brennan had got into the habit of telling Booth that he was a good man because he didn't really believe it and he needed to hear it from someone. She had seen the pain he was in when he talked about certain things in his past and that made her sad for him.

His childhood had been miserable and tragic. Booth had one really good memory about his father and that was a week of sobriety and a baseball game. When it came time to get married, Brennan had insisted that they be married on Booth's perfect day so that day would have a happy meaning not just a sad meaning. While in the Army and working for the FBI, Booth had taken over 50 lives, but she also knew that he'd saved just as many if not more lives. His father had been a horrible excuse for a human being with little compassion for his own family and yet Booth was a wonderful father. He was kind to his children and never raised his hand in anger towards them.

The past is the past and Booth had come to realize that living there only brought misery. After the things they had been through, he chose not to live in the past anymore and with his encouragement, Brennan had let go of most of her painful past too.

They had both realized over time that letting the past haunt them only kept them from happiness. That had been a hard fought lesson and it had taken them a long time to learn it, but they had. Not everyone learns that lesson.

She knew that he let Patterson block that shot and she knew why he did it. Booth wanted to fix Patterson like he does everyone else that is broken that he meets. He once mentioned that they were the land of misfit toys. She'd had to look that up, but when she did she saw the truth in his statement. She, Booth, Lance Sweets and many of the people they knew had been broken in some way and yet they survived and even thrived. No life was perfect and everyone had a scar or two to prove it. Some scars were small and almost invisible and some are big and terrible to see. Booth knew that and he tried to help when he could. Brennan loved him for that. She loved his big heart.

Her husband was a secure alpha male. He didn't have to prove his alpha position because he knew his place in the world. If missing a shot that meant nothing to him helped someone else then that is what he would do. She was proud of her man. He was hers and he always would be. No life was perfect, but sometimes she felt like her present life was perfect and it was because she loved someone that loved her so much.

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Let me know what you thought of my story. Thank you.


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